Atlanta Burns
by silverfoxpunk
Summary: Elena and Damon search for Stefan, but the real battle is with their feelings. Takes place after the season 2 finale.
1. Blood

**For Thot84, who made me want to be better. No compromises this time.**

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><p><strong>Atlanta Burns <strong>

**Chapter 1: Blood**

He'd done his time studying the circulatory system, hell, all vampires had. The curiosity to understand how you functioned, what made you tick, plus the time on your hands… all of them ran to the text books and the microscope eventually, lying to themselves the whole while that they were just 'interested' and not desperate, desperate to change what could not be. Two years, often three - so short a time to spend studying when facing an eternity cursed. Locked in a series of airless rooms, feverishly consuming the latest studies, pushing one step ahead, always on the 'crest' of some discovery - a discovery that is never made.

So yes, leukocytes and thrombocytes had revealed their mysteries long ago. He didn't have them. He didn't know what he had. Tell any vampire and they'd laugh that same hollow laugh. All of them down to the last man had spent the same years in the academic wilderness and shared the same red-eyed, twitching despair. What their bodies did with the blood nobody knew. What vampirism actually _was _nobody knew. And if you couldn't identify it, you couldn't cure it. It was almost laughable really. Other people's blood animated them, but their own systems were a mystery. The blood when it entered them was transformed into something else, but the hows or whys, remained a stubborn mystery. God's last joke.

So when Klaus' blood hit his system, pulsing through his veins like a tsunami, he knew it was not entering his system and filling him with antibodies, or attaching to his stem cells, or anything else that could be understood, explained or rationalized. It was simply the supernatural at work. The dark product of a were-vampire's twisted heritage that assimilated, teased and curled around the 50,000 miles of veins in his body, washing him clean of Tyler's curse.

Raising himself on one elbow he looked at Elena. He knew it and she knew it. The rules of the game had changed. That pure unbroken spell between them had dissipated the moment it was clear he wasn't dying any more.

He hated that phrase much beloved of romantic novelists 'he could still taste her on his lips', because it was a lie. He couldn't. He craved her, wanted more. But there she was standing staring at him, timid as a rabbit, chaste as a virgin, with Katherine's words burning shame into her heart. It was 'okay' to love them both, the female vampire had told her. He knew as soon as those words had left her mouth, that he had lost Elena. Katherine was a cunning little bitch. Granting permission to admit love, guaranteed it wouldn't come. Elena wouldn't want to be like her. She would bite it down, bury it under a blanket of worry for his brother.

Ahh, his brother. The elephant in the room.

Elena may have been here in the room with him, but he knew her mind was racing ahead to Stefan. In her practical, solution-for-everything way, she was already picturing rescue, homecoming and the moment of sweet reunion, where kisses would rain down on lips and hands would gently brush faces in that sweet, intimate, space that was the distance between two lovers. He grimaced, that shared 'sweet, intimate space' had been his only moments before. But that was all over now. The reality was her heart belonged to someone else.

He vaulted out of his bed suddenly, his feet landing heavily on the ground. He tested his weight and tried not to notice that she had taken a step back as he had risen. She was scared. He felt a stab of pure pain run straight through his heart. She expected the honesty of his death, not the reality of his unnatural resurrection.

"We'll find him and we'll bring him home." He said, his unwavering voice sounding more certain than he expected, given that what he said was both painful and probably untrue. He didn't want to bring Stefan home. Besides if wasn't here already, then they were probably already too late. They both knew it. She nodded once agreeing to his statement, but he could tell she was barely listening. The regret she felt at their previous closeness was obvious. She wanted to keep distance between them; her thoughts were focused on Stefan. It didn't take a genius to work it out.

He strode into the bathroom, determined not to let his heartbreak show on his face. He turned the faucets full on, let the hiss of steam vent his frustration for him. He steadied his hands on the wall. Took breaths in memory of when they used to do something. He tried to imagine his heart beating. Hurt flooded over him. He loved her and she had, at least for a moment, let that be enough. She didn't really love him back, but she had lowered her barriers, just let him need her and also let him believe in the possibility of more, even though their time had run out. It was pure, unselfish. Now he flung off both his clothes and his hurt, and let both disappear under a roll of steam. He stepped under the scalding water and let the sweat of his sickness wash away. The cascade poured over his dark hair and troubled face. He tipped his head back into the slipstream and let the water slide in and out of his open mouth, over his throat and across his shoulders. He wanted to be scalded just to feel a different kind of pain. He washed both his fevers away.

* * *

><p>They entered Klaus' apartment. There was nothing here, nothing but debris. A scrap of paper here, a paperclip there - a worryingly large pile of blood bags oozing onto the floor – pathetic remnants of the whirlwind that had passed through this place and turned all their lives upside down.<p>

He opened and slammed the refrigerator door just for want of a way to express his frustration. It made her jump; her slender shoulders bunched with sudden anxiety.

He apologized and her coal-black eyes flicked to him with the most tiredness he had ever seen in her. Poor Elena, poor girl. He had almost forgotten all that had gone before. She didn't want this strange new world she found herself in; she just wanted her boyfriend back and all that was familiar and comforting. What she was left with was him - a dark and dangerous vampire who brooded with love for her, filling up the room with his self-pity. He wished he could take her in his arms, but he looked at her instead. "We'll find him." He promised her. "I'll bring him back to you." Shoulders still hunched she looked at her feet. "It's my fault." She said and at that he could bear it no more. She was broken. When he enveloped her in his arms he told himself he did it for her, but she neither held him back, nor relaxed, so he supposed the comfort was his alone. He kissed the top of her head.

"Nothing is your fault." He said. "He did this to keep_ me _alive. I promise you Elena, I will get him back. I owe you both that." He relaxed his grip and she looked up at him and he realized he meant what he said. He wanted to bring him back, for her, to make her happy once more.

How sick was that?

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><p>They drove back to the boarding house in silence, she looked through the window at the drizzling rain and he felt the were-vampire blood curling like a dark-shadow through him. He twitched his fingers on the steering wheel and blinked more times than was entirely necessary.<p>

"We are dead." He said, almost to the air, and she turned to him a puzzled look breaking through the pale misery. "Our bodies, they are dead. But the blood, it animates us."

"I don't understand…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He could hear how dry her lips were. She passed her tongue over them and tried again, "I don't understand what you mean."

"The blood. Klaus, thinks he's controlling him with it, but he isn't - not really. The blood just animates the body, not the mind."

"How can you say that when you've seen him on human blood, Damon? You know how out of control he gets." He shook his head.

"No. He wants to come home to you. It's all he wants, he can't think of anything else. That's what will keep him safe." She looked away, doubt and despair filling her whole body.

"He'll do things, things he can't control." She said sorrowfully. He nodded, thoughtfully.

"Maybe. He'll do what he has to do to survive, but the real Stefan – he's in there somewhere. He'll find a way, because all that keeps him going, is the thought of returning home to you."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because it's how I would feel too." He said quietly. He didn't add that it _was_ how he felt. Elena was 'home' and he was on the outside looking in.

He pulled up at the boarding house and as soon the car stopped, she opened the car door and walked away.

He let her go.

* * *

><p>Later that night, as a warm slick of whisky coated his throat, he sat back on his couch and watched the candles burn down. He intended to get himself good and drunk, as he couldn't bring himself to go to bed. Couldn't return to that room that had so nearly been his final resting place. He looked at the glass and realized his hand was shaking. He had come so close, so damn close. A feeling akin to nausea washed through him. He lowered his head between his knees and closed his eyes briefly, but flung them open again when he saw her face leaning in to kiss him; the moment seemed to be on tiresome instant replay. Maybe he had died, for this certainly seemed to be purgatory.<p>

He could hear the sound then, faint though it was. He raised his head and strained again. Yes, it was the sound of her trying desperately to muffle tears in her pillow.

He roused himself and unsteadily walked up the stairs to his brother's bedroom and knocked gently on the door, his heart heavy. She sniffed; he could almost picture her putting her resilience together like a mask. He gave her a moment, then opened the door. She was sat in the heart of that big bed, looking lost and alone. She wore a cream nightgown that exposed her legs, it had deep lace cuffs at the breast and the hem. She had her knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. Her dark hair hang scruffily around her shoulders. The overall effect only exaggerated her pallor. She looked lost and lonely. A familiar ache passed through him. Seeing her like this only made the feeling worse. All he wanted was to make love to her.

"I just wondered if you needed anything." He said gently, trying to sound more reassuring than he felt. She shook her head. She had tears threatening to well over, but through sheer force of will, she muttered, "I'm okay." He nodded, turned slowly and left, closing the door behind him. He got almost all the way to the bottom of the stairs before he paused. He looked behind him at the door he had closed. Suddenly he ran back up the steps, taking them three at a time. When he reached the top he strode into her room unannounced. She was now under the sheets, her back turned, crying silently. He removed his shoes and moved to the bed. He lay on top of the cool sheets and shifted his body up next to hers. He put an arm over her and felt for her hand; when he found it, she allowed him to lace their fingers together. Maybe she was too tired to argue. He nestled his body against hers and they lay that way until they fell asleep.

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><p>When he woke, he momentarily didn't recognize where he was, but the sweet fragrance of Elena's scent brought him round. He was facing away from her on the other side of his brother's bed. He was hot. Way too hot. He clawed at his shirt and threw it off. He felt for sobriety and clear-headedness, but neither were especially forthcoming. Abruptly he sat bolt upright, a chill passed through him like ice. They were not alone. No. Correct that. Someone <em>had<em> been in the room, but now they were gone. Suddenly he was wide-awake, his vampire eyes scanning the darkness automatically even though he knew the intruder was no longer there. They had been watching them sleep and then had gone.

An incredible sadness passed over him. He knew who it was. Stefan.

He felt worry descend, his blurred mind crowding with thoughts that battled for supremacy. He tried to clear his mind, organize them into order. Firstly, if his brother had been here and had not announced himself, then he probably had been told he shouldn't be here and had risked much in doing so. Secondly, somewhat perversely, he knew that his brother would have taken in the scene before him and would have expected it. Probably even welcomed it in some way (_'well at least she has him now'_). That was who he was. Thirdly, and this was the hardest of all to realize: he knew with certainty that the risk-filled visit meant Stefan had in his own way said goodbye.

As he formulated that last thought, he turned to the woman sleeping soundly next to him. He stroked a stray strand of hair away from her face and she stirred. "Stefan?" She mumbled. He frowned, not for the mistake, but because he knew that in the morning, he would have to tell her that the object of her dreams was never coming back.


	2. Trails

**Atlanta Burns**

**Chapter 2: Trails**

The little, cherry-red Porsche was short on gas, so he pulled into the station to fill her up - momentarily forgetting which side the tank was on and having to get back in the car and pull it up to a different pump. He knew that if vintage cars like this didn't get driven every so often, they faded into dust. For a reason he couldn't quite fathom, he had made a promise to himself to look after it on Stefan's behalf. He didn't know why it mattered to him, but it did. As he stood beside the gas pump with the pungent stench of fuel hitting his nostrils, he tried to focus on the source of his increasing discontent. Maybe it was thinking about Andie this morning that had set him on a downward spiral. He didn't like to admit it, but she had been a good distraction. He may have even missed her.

The nozzle clicked in his hand and he gave it an extra squeeze just to make sure the tank was really full. The Porsche had a small gas tank, unlike his own car, but it drank like a hardened alcoholic meaning running it became a costly hobby. He went inside to pay wondering if he would ever get the chance to complain about that to his brother.

Inside the gas station, as was his way, he closely observed the actions of the customers; en-masse they moved glumly between the sodas, candy and microwaveable snacks, piling up the junk food as if they were half-starved. Nobody, he believed, actually wanted to eat a family-sized bag of chips by themselves, so what was it about the monotony of the road that made people look for the constant oral distraction? It was a mystery to him.

He paid the surly assistant behind the counter and walked back outside, feeling like he couldn't wait to put some miles between him and Mystic. For a while he just needed to escape the confines of the boarding house. He jumped back in the car and accelerated the engine in a way that would have given his brother a heart-attack. Cars, he believed, were a little bit like women. You didn't know what their limitations were, until you pushed them just a little bit too far. The car roared out of the gas station attracting a fair bit of attention as it did so. Perhaps he needed the envious glances he left in his wake just a little bit more than he would have liked to admit.

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><p>He headed to the Lomack observatory. It was high up, looking down on the world, with unparalleled views for miles around. Today was not one of the days the observatory was open to the public, so he had to compel his way past the security guard. Besides, he wasn't interested in going in; he just wanted the uninterrupted peace of the location. Celestial matters were far from his mind, it was the earthly ones that occupied him.<p>

Day had already become dusk. He drove the Porsche right to the crest of the hill and switched the engine off. It was good here. Quiet.

Safe within the cocoon of the car, he felt darkness descend quickly. He watched as the lights of the town at the foot of the hill flickered on one-by-one. He leaned on the steering wheel and rested his chin on his hands. There was something soporific about the interior of old cars; maybe it was the pungent smell of the leather, or the pressure of the stagnant air… Either way, he liked the comfort of the seat beneath him and the four metal walls surrounding him. For now, this was his sanctuary. He fought hard against closing his eyes, because that way he kept her out.

Without Elena, there could be no more marking the passing minutes by the increasing degrees of silence between them. She had fashioned herself into a spirit to him - ethereal and insubstantial; anything besides flesh and blood that he could take into his arms. Had it started that day when they had kissed? Or the following morning, when he had told her Stefan had truly gone? Disgruntled that she lived under his roof but treated him like he was dead to her, he had asked her one day why she didn't just 'go home', and she told him she stayed in the boarding house 'Because he'll expect me here when he comes home'. He had growled his acceptance. He didn't really want her to go; he just wanted her to admit he existed.

Jeremy was always with her now. They had become inseparable. Chatting together in huddled corners, they only grew quiet when he entered the room. They had begun to use nicknames for each other and seemed to share a whole secret language he suspected they hadn't used since childhood. He understood that they needed each other, (or at least he tried to), but it still made him feel like a stranger in his own home. When her brother wasn't with her, Blondie and the witch were her constant companions. Steadfast in their custody of their friend they were fierce guardians of her right to be downright miserable, unreasonable, surly or cold whenever she felt like it. They fluttered around her like hens round a chick whenever he suggested she might like to 'get over herself'. Well, perhaps that had been a bit cruel, but he was tired of feeling like this. And whether deliberately or not - they had all built a wall around her, keeping him on the other side.

That was when the dream had started. It was constant, never changing. He was dying and she was lying there next to him, a hair's breadth apart. She wore that cream lace nightgown she had worn that night. Suddenly, with typical dream logic, they were standing next to a window from which Stefan had just made a speedy exit. The gauzy curtains at the window's frame blew outside into the rain. The air crackled with the electricity between them. Elena was just so beautiful. He wanted to make love to her so badly.

In the dream, he would reach out and hook his little finger under the strap of her nightgown, slipping it from her shoulder. She would clasp the gown to her chest with both hands and look at him, her eyes alive with fire and say "But what about Stefan?" and he would reply, "It's okay, he wants us to." But he knew that was a lie. Then he would reach out again to her and gently unhook the other strap. As it fell from her shoulder, she would hold his gaze for a long time, then loosen her grip on the nightgown. Just as it was about to slip from her slender, olive-skinned, naked body, he would wake up. It was the same damn torture every night.

It was why he wouldn't let himself sleep. He couldn't bear to think of her any more.

He thought about the trouble his brother was in instead, and how deeply he was in it. Knowing what Klaus wanted him for wasn't difficult. A vampire who used to be a renowned killer, but was 'on the wagon' would prove irresistible to someone like him. A reputation was as fun to play with as a new toy.

But this wasn't the nineteen hundreds any more. One girl killed in a warehouse may have merely gotten the attention of the local news, but worse could follow. This was the YouTube generation. There was CCTV on every street - even peasants had cell phones. The world was awash with watchful eyes ready to seek out sinners and broadcast their exploits faster than you could type 'wikileaks'. It went unspoken in his community, but they all knew it. The privilege of the supernaturals' secret existence balanced on a knife edge.

He himself had been combing the net for hours, tracking mysterious deaths and animal attacks until he found what he was looking for. He had been determined to find them both; after all, he had promised Elena he would bring him back. But he had not anticipated how long it would take him to pick up the trail, and a month had already passed. It seemed that Klaus was leading Stefan on a merry tour of destruction around Eastern Europe. It began in the whore houses of Bulgaria, moved into the Carpathian Mountains of Transylvania (surely Klaus' sense of humor at work here) and onwards into Serbia. Now there were more deaths and the deaths were more public. The reports he had found this morning had truly made him turn cold. In Transylvania, he read that a farmer's entire family who had left to go to market, never reached it, nor had they made it back home. That had to be at least a dozen people and their livestock. In Serbia, he was disturbed to read of a whole wedding party who had been murdered by a suspected pack of 'rabid dogs'.

He didn't doubt that hunting parties and police had been dispatched in equal measure without a second thought.

He felt a knot of worry tighten in his gut. They weren't avoiding attention, they were courting it. Klaus wasn't using his protégé to merely 'tweak the nose' of humans - he was slapping them full in the face. Just because he couldn't figure out the were-vampire's ultimate game-plan, didn't make him worry any less about its existence. His fretting was what had brought him out here to the middle of nowhere in the first place. He knew he could act now he had a place to start, and he was just chewing the inside of his cheek and making plans when his cell suddenly began to ring. Deeper worry lines drew across his face when he saw the name of the caller.

"Bonnie?" He said, surprised. She sounded angry and distressed.

"Wherever you are Damon, you have to come home right now. They won't listen to me." She hung up.

He tried to ring her back, but she refused to answer. He tried to ring Elena, then Alaric, Caroline and even Jeremy, but when all their phones either rang out, or went straight to voicemail, he swore and slammed the stick shift into reverse.

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><p>When he pulled up outside the house, he could hear raised voices. He tore into the house wondering what on earth was going on. The entire gang were all there, arguing bitterly. Caroline and Bonnie stood on one side, Jeremy and Elena on the other, with Alaric hovering in the background looking uncomfortable. Things were heated. They all talked over each other at once.<p>

"She'll do what she wants." Jeremy was saying belligerently.

"How many more times, Jeremy? It's just not safe!" Caroline argued. "If everything you have told us is true, Stefan doesn't even know who he is any more. I don't like it any more than you do, but I know you can just go rushing in there after him. And Elena, do I actually have to remind you that Klaus has already killed you once?"

"He killed a whole wedding party, Care!" Elena replied. "If I can reach Stefan, maybe I can stop him - get through to him somehow. He's sick, Care, he doesn't know what he is doing. I have to try."

"Damon!" Bonnie saw him enter the room, with a deep frown on his face. "Thank God you're here. You have to stop this madness!" She said. "They won't listen to us."

"What's going on?"

"It's none of his business." Elena said. She looked like she would leave the room if he dared to utter a single word on the subject. "I'm going and that's it."

"And I'm going with her." Jeremy announced. He cast Bonnie a nervous look.

At that Alaric stepped in. "Jeremy, you know I can't let you go."

"You can't stop me."

"Okay, that's true. But I am asking you not to. It's not what your Aunt would have wanted - for either of you." Alaric added. "We'll find another way."

"Listen to him!" Bonnie begged, tears springing to her eyes.

"I can't let her do this on her own, Bon." Jeremy said gently. He added shyly. "Besides, I have certain skills now which may help."

"You think _Vicky_ or _Anna_ will help you with Stefan?" Caroline spat out. "You're deluded!" She gave a short, sharp laugh.

"Don't go." Bonnie pleaded.

"I'll be back."

"No. No you won't." Bonnie said her eyes full of fear. She stepped towards him shaking her head. She gripped both his hands and lowered her voice. "Don't go. He's lost to her now, to all of us."

"She's my sister, Bonnie, she's all I have left." He let go of her hand and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. She looked up to him with tears in her eyes.

"You have me." She said. He gave her a gentle placating kiss, but didn't answer. She turned to Elena.

"Elena, I love you, you know I do, but don't do this!" She begged. And the argument began to ramp up a notch again. Soon they were all screaming at each other.

Damon shut his ears to the madness and closed his eyes. It didn't take a genius to work out what had happened. He had been careful to clear his browser history, but it wouldn't be impossible to gain access to all those frenzied internet searches if you knew how. And he suspected Jeremy knew exactly how.

He opened his eyes to find that Caroline had walked over to him. "Following Stefan and Klaus to Europe is a suicide mission. You know it and I know it." She put her hands on both his arms and squeezed them, as if that would help get his attention focused on the sense of her words. "If they go, they are never coming back. I _know_ you don't want that." She looked at him meaningfully - spelling it out, 'You'll lose Elena…' was what she really said.

Suddenly, the shouting subsided and he felt all eyes upon him, but it was Elena who he looked to. She steadily held his gaze from across the room. It was the first time she had looked him in the eyes for the full four weeks since his brother had gone. He felt the pregnant pause in the air whilst they all awaited his verdict.

"I'll drive you to the airport." He said.

At that, the room erupted. Bonnie pleaded, Caroline hurled insults, Jeremy made excuses and Alaric tried to calm everyone down.

But Damon's gaze never left Elena's. It was the deepest understanding they had ever shared.


	3. A Man's Job

**Atlanta Burns**

**Chapter 3: A Man's Job**

He knew it had to be done, but he also knew the trouble it would cause.

"Jeremy," he said "come here a moment." The trusting fool leaned forward and he made his fist connect with the boy's jaw, hard. He was out cold. First time. Now he came to look at him, perhaps he was out a bit too cold. He hadn't meant to hurt the boy any more than was necessary to get the job done. He leaned back over his seat and checked the boy's pulse and was relieved when he found one. He grabbed fistfuls of Jeremy's sweatshirt and pushed him into a more comfortable position - one in which he looked more like he was sleeping and less like he had been knocked out.

He remembered to rummage in Jeremy's pocket and grab the passport he had seen him place there earlier. He tore out the pages he needed at the back that contained the various visas and stuffed those pages into the back of his own passport. He grabbed the note he had hurriedly written and placed it in the boy's passport, leaned over into the back seat and placed it in his hands along with the car keys. He sat back down in his seat just as Elena arrived.

She opened the car door with a cheerful "Good news, it looks as though you don't have to pay if you are just dropping people off, they give you twenty minutes…" when she saw that Jeremy was asleep, her face grew puzzled. It took less than five seconds for the truth to dawn on her. She leaned in and felt for her brother's pulse, screaming at the same time "Jesus, Damon, what have you done?"

"We have to leave now. Or we'll miss the plane." He said coldly.

"You _hit _him? You hit my brother?"

"Elena, listen to me. You're not going to see this now, but this is for the best. He can't protect you out there. I have to go with you. He'd be a danger to you and a danger to himself. I am the best chance you have. I know you are angry with me, but we have to leave. Right now." She leaned over to him in the front seat and despite her awkward position rained blows on him. He took the slaps with barely a wince.

"Stop it! Stop it." He said crossly. "He's going to be fine. A bit bruised and angry maybe, but he's going to wake up with the keys to a car he can drive and a note that tells him what's going on." She hit him again and he said more forcefully. "Elena, stop it." She yelled in pure frustration and sat back down with a thud. "We have a flight to catch." He added.

She folded her arms and stared out of the window.

He ignored her and got out of the car, fetching their luggage out of the trunk. She sulked for a minute or two, and then leaned over and kissed her brother's cheek, whispering to his unconscious body, "Forgive me." She got out of the car and collected her backpack from where it was resting on the ground. It was so heavy she could barely lift it, but she refused to let him see that it was a struggle and she swung it onto her back and marched towards the terminal with her nose in the air. He sighed; it was going to be a _long _trip.

He pulled out the wheelie holdall he had previously concealed and also swung Jer's massive rucksack onto his back. He followed Elena to the terminal entrance.

* * *

><p>The 'flight' was actually three flights. A grueling trip of over nine hours to Europe, where they would change at Amsterdam's Schiphol airport and catch a four hour flight to Serbia's Belgrade. From there they would take a small internal flight to Knjazevac, a city in the East near the border with Romania. It was close to the village where the wedding massacre had taken place and the last known destination of the vampires. The sibling's plan had been to rest the night in Knjazevac, then strike out into the countryside in the morning. They had been surprisingly organized, which he had gathered from their journey in. He had driven Elena's car whilst they had sat in the backseat running through all their equipment, maps and plans. He saw no reason to deviate from what they had originally discussed.<p>

Elena surprised him when they were waiting in the airport lounge. He thought she would not speak to him for most of the journey, but when she quietly asked if compelling his way through passport control without visas would be tricky, he explained it was easier to compel them into thinking the pages he had torn from Jer's passport, had fallen out of his own. She nodded quietly and then texted furiously on her phone. He suspecting she was updating the others on the sudden change of plan, or perhaps she was apologizing to Jer - something that he himself was going to have to do, if he ever got home. He wouldn't have changed his decision though, their forethought and pre-planning may have put his own to shame, but he was right; this was a man's job. Not a boy's.

* * *

><p>The flight to Amsterdam had been pain-free and they only had a half-hour stopover in Schiphol airport, which was just long enough to find to the correct terminal for the flight to Belgrade and to freshen up. She had been quiet on the long-haul part of the flight, mostly listening to tunes and sleeping on and off. When the food came, she turned it down, but he told her she should eat and keep her strength up. She was nervous, he understood that; but not looking after herself was not going to help things. Both of them needed to be at full strength if they were to going to take this on.<p>

Whilst they sat in the departure lounge, he asked her if she had ever been to Amsterdam. She shook her head. He wanted to tell her how beautiful it was; that if you just got away from the wasted English tourists, you could have an amazing time. He wanted to tell her about his favorite bar, De Zotte ('the fool' in Flemish), where they sold a hundred types of beers made by monks, each one was served in a different glass. You could sit there all day eating strong cheese and black bread and get into heated discussions on politics with the locals. He wanted to tell her about the crooked little houses that jostled for space alongside the canal sides that defied every rule of gravity. He wanted to tell her about the cyclists and the trams that had the clueless tourists at the mercy of their ringing bells. He wanted to tell her that he would buy a houseboat just for her and they would spend the rest of their days drifting round and round, with nothing better to do than stay in bed wrapped in each other's arms….

"That's a shame." He said. "You should really try to come here one day." He went back to filling in the New York Times cryptic crossword. Three across, F-R-U-S-T-R-A-T-E-D.

* * *

><p>It was dark when they arrived in Serbia, and the bright strip lights inside the Aerodrom Minicevo discombobulated them both. She had grown quiet too, as if the reality of their situation had finally hit her. She was looking at a bunch of squiggly letters on a door trying to figure out if it was the word for bathroom. She looked at him and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.<p>

They were both exhausted. It was 11pm local time and the cab drivers that saw their luggage, refused to take them, either waving them away or quoting ridiculous prices that he refused to pay. The drivers stood and smoked, shrugging their indifference and returning to their conversations. She tugged at his arm and told him they would find a night bus to the centre of Knjazevac instead. Eventually they found the right bus stop, but the first bus refused to take her crisp, new notes and shut the doors on them. It took fifteen minutes to find a dodgy looking bar still open at the airport, so he could break the notes into change. He availed himself of the opportunity to buy a bottle of the local spirit, Rakia. The label said 60% proof and the liquid inside looked so strong he guessed you should probably only clean wounds with it. She waited outside with the luggage, looking anxious, pressing her backpack against the wall trying to take the weight off her shoulders. She looked afraid that if she took it off, she wouldn't be able to pick it up again.

They walked back to the bus stop and waited a full forty minutes for the next bus. The driver tutted as they hauled their luggage on, having to squeeze through the doors and use a combination of pushing and pulling to get it down into the belly of the bus, where it proceeded to sit in a heap and block the aisle. She collapsed into a seat by a window and looked out into the endless darkness. He sat beside her and thought he saw the faint glimmer of tears in her eyes, but he was too busy wondering whether the driver had understood his request to let them know when they had arrived, than to comfort her now.

She fell asleep with her head against the window. The bus screeched to a halt in the middle of nowhere and their last fellow passenger disembarked. She was a weatherworn old lady in a headscarf, who descended the stairs at such a snail's pace that she enraged the driver. He let rip with a torrent of verbal abuse and hand gesticulations. She descended into the gloom and he barely waited for her last foot to alight from the steps before slamming the hydraulic doors shut behind her and roaring away.

About five minutes later they entered the city. Their bad-tempered driver shouted something back to the pair of them that was possibly "last stop". Nudging Elena awake, they did their same push-me-pull-you dance all the way back down the bus, with the driver grumbling the whole time.

* * *

><p>Left on the curbside of an oddly quiet, unknown city, he felt surprisingly glad for her company. She pulled her iPad out her backpack and was looking at a pre-downloaded map. "The hotel is a bit of a walk. I think it's that way." She said pointing. She bent to heft the rucksack onto her back once more, but he couldn't bear the sight of her struggling again and he took it from her, handing her the wheelie holdall instead. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her with "You need your free hand for the map."<p>

He followed her down streets he couldn't even begin to guess how to pronounce and eventually twenty minutes later they came to a hotel on the outskirts of the city called Konak Barker, which looked like a Swiss style villa. He had by now entirely lost track of the local time, but the place was big enough for a 24-hour reception desk. They were welcomed in fluent English by a smart young man behind the desk, with dark blonde hair and pale skin. He told them to rest whilst he rang a bell for a porter. They sat down, feeling never more pleased to have reached a destination.

"Have you come for the hunt, sir?" The man asked whilst they waited.

"The hunt?"

"Oh, yes sir. We're very busy this week. Everyone has heard about our wolf problem and they have come from as far away as Germany. Breakfast is in the room down the hall between six and nine. Would you like a paper in the morning, sir?"

He nodded.

"Wall Street Journal, LA Times?…"

"No, whatever the local paper is." He said. The man fought to keep a surprised expression off his face and filled in a form. The porter arrived and carried all three bags towards their room.

* * *

><p>He realized that Elena and Jeremy had booked a twin room. She looked so tired that he was certain she wouldn't care that he would now be sharing it with her. He tipped the porter well, ensuring he left with a grin on his face. He had never known a porter who wasn't useful.<p>

The room was basic, but clean. Frankly he could have slept on a bed of nails for all he cared. He looked at her and she fell on her back across one of the beds.

She exhaled dramatically, then got to her feet. "I'm going to have a shower." She went into the bathroom and he heard water running. He sat on the end of his bed and opened the bottle of Rakia he had bought and took a swig. He coughed. The stuff was paint stripper. He took another swig. He lay back on the bed and let the day disappear. She came back into the room with her face free from make-up, wearing a shower cap, hotel slippers and a towel wrapped tightly around her. Even at her most unglamorous, she was still painfully beautiful. He couldn't bare to think how close he was to her naked skin. He took another swig of the Rakia (he was already developing a taste for it), and looked away. She found what she was looking for in her luggage and took herself back into the bathroom. He heard her brush her teeth and use the toilet. Thin walls.

She came back in wearing black pajamas and crawled into the bed next to his with hardly a word. She looked at him and to his surprise said, "Are you going to share that?" He passed her the bottle and she took a wary look at the label, then knocked back a gulp. Her eyes widened as the burning liquor coated her throat and she burst into a coughing fit. She looked at him and suddenly they both began to laugh. They became hysterical in no time at all, until they were both breathless with it, his gut was aching he laughed so hard. Then suddenly he realized that at some point, her hysterical laughter, had become tears. With vampire speed he was beside her on her bed. He tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him firmly away. She dried her eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas and climbed under the covers, turning her back on him, leaving him wondering what to do or say. He felt deeply confused, so he merely placed a hand on her arm and said "Get some sleep now. We have a long day ahead." And walked, strangely hurt, back to his own bed.

He pulled his clothes from his body and crawled under the sheets in his boxers. For the first time in a very long while, when he closed his eyes, he didn't dream of her.


	4. Exposed

**Atlanta Burns**

**Chapter 4: Exposed**

He couldn't believe quite how fast she had sunk downhill. At first he had fretted ineffectually, but she had told him to calm down because this - just like all stomach bugs - would pass in its own time. Now she had nothing left in her stomach to vomit, she was retching - although the retching in itself was quite violent and left her in pain. It seemed all he could do for her was hold back her hair and stroke her shoulders.

Her being sick made him think of Rose. And thinking of Rose gave him more pain. She had meant something to him; he knew it because he didn't want to examine it. It made him realize that he didn't have anybody now who needed him in that way, for comfort or for strength. The thought made his eyebrows knit together. He ran his hand over Elena's shoulders again, rubbing the back of her neck with his fingers and feeling the silk of her hair. Despite the circumstances, he liked the contact.

She reached out with a splayed hand for toilet roll to wipe her mouth with, but he was closer, so dealt with it for her. Rather than give her the paper, he leaned forward and gently wiped her mouth. She blushed. He balled the paper and chucked it into the toilet bowl.

"I'm sorry." She said for the umpteenth time as he flushed it away. He didn't say anything, what could he say? 'There is no need to be sorry, it's not your fault', because that was pointless. She was going to blame herself for this anyway. He reached for the bottled water on the sink, but it was almost empty.

"I'm going to get you some more water." He said and she nodded, putting her face back over the rim of the toilet bowl as the urge to hurl came over her again. "I won't be long." He added. He was anxious about leaving her alone, which was the feeling that formed the central conundrum of his day.

* * *

><p>As he walked to reception, he had time to run their morning over in his head and consider what had led up to this.<p>

He had woken up first and discovered that in the night, Elena had peeled off her pajamas because the room was overly warm. She was lying under the duvet at an odd angle with her foot and calf exposed and one arm flung out towards him. He loved the way the light fell on her. Her foot looked good enough to eat. He tried to resist the urge to touch, but he just couldn't and he settled for placing a tiny kiss in the palm of her hand. She wriggled back under the covers with a gentle sigh and he had fallen back into his own bed feeling bad about the massive hard-on he was harboring. He looked away from her and thought about dead kittens until it went away.

Eventually, when he could, he jumped out of bed, showered and wandered into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. She was awake and putting an adapter onto her phone charger.

"Good morning." He said.

"For you maybe, but Jeremy has woken up with his face twice the size it was yesterday."

He had the good grace to look bad about that.

"So, you spoke to him…"

"Yes, and my advice is you had better not, not for a long while anyway." He nodded. "And by the way, the 'note' you left him to 'explain everything', he told me what it said."

"Ahh."

"'_Sorry, dude. Better luck next time' i_s not an explanation!"

"Understood." He opened Jeremy's rucksack and pulled out the boy's clothes, looking for something he could wear that didn't make him feel ridiculous.

"What's wrong with your own clothes?" She asked, indicating the wheelie bag she had pulled to the hotel the night before.

"Mmm. No clothes in there." He said, rummaging some more, putting aside the hoodies and finding a plain black t-shirt and combats that at least he could live with.

"What _is_ in there then?" She said, suddenly curious. Meanwhile she was reaching out from under the duvet and feeling around for her abandoned pajamas. He tried hard not to think about that, or his previous 'problem' was going to come back - especially now she had found her clothes and was wriggling around energetically under the covers trying to put them on.

"Nothing that should worry you. Come on. Get up. We should have breakfast and get going." He said.

"You're not going to actually wear Jer's underwear are you?" She teased.

"Commando, baby. All the way." She rolled her eyes and got out of bed.

* * *

><p>He had been surprised to see Costel, the receptionist from the night before, helping serve breakfast. When the tall man brushed passed their table, he had spoken to him, "You pulling a double shift?" he asked. The young man smiled.<p>

"Oh yes, sir. As I said, we are at capacity, so all of us are working extra hours. I help out until after the breakfast during busy times."

The room did seem to be full of people. Behind them a large group of Germans were talking loudly about the hunt. His German was patchy, but he got the gist that they were excited. He'd tell Elena later that they had said something about picking up a trail.

"Well, gee. That sucks." He replied. Costel smiled.

"Oh not at all, sir. I really don't mind. May I ask, has your waiter taken your order yet?"

"Not yet." Elena said. "What do you recommend to eat after drinking Rakia?" He laughed.

"Headache pills and eggs, ma'am. Lots of eggs!" She smiled and Costel left with her order.

* * *

><p>He had realized he didn't want to eat, he might need blood later, but at that point, he'd been fine. She had eaten scrambled eggs on toast just as recommended and between them they had sunk a pot of coffee. They had begun to discuss their plans cautiously, aware that they were in a public space and could be overheard. She had laid out a map of the mountains that she had bought in Belgrade airport.<p>

"See this area, here? This was where the wedding was held. And over here is where those Germans are going to meet this morning for the hunt."

"You speak German?" He said.

"Some. Not much. Jeremy and I had a German Au-Pair when we were little, but I've forgotten most of it." He wondered what else he didn't know about her. He tried not to think too hard about it, because inevitably that game ended up in thinking about what she liked to do in bed. He tried to focus on what she was saying instead. She had a flash drive plugged into her iPad and was sharing the theories that she and Jer had for where the 'wolves' would go next. It was all very techie and impressive, but he couldn't help thinking she should just relax and let him take control of that side of it. After all, to get one step ahead would require thinking like a vampire and no amount of computer wizardry could help her with that.

He pulled out his own 'tech'; the newspaper that had been pushed under their door this morning.

"I don't speak a word of Cyrillic, but I don't think we need to to understand what this is." He had said, thrusting his finger onto the page he had already opened and pushing it to her side of the table. The central picture was of a large funeral, with hundreds of mourners. Underneath that, was a picture of a young couple on their wedding day and beside that, a shot of an area of woodland which had been cordoned off and was crawling with emergency services. She winced, but forced herself to examine it.

"I don't want to believe he could do this." She whispered painfully. "But I can't lie to myself." She flicked her brown eyes up to him, making him wonder what his brother would have said to her at this point in time if the situation had been reversed. It was clear that she somehow felt partly responsible for each death. Would Stefan have told her it was all going to be all right? No. Not he wouldn't do that. He was not that man. He merely returned her look. She picked up her pen and circled everything in the article that looked like a place name and began crosschecking them against her map.

"Give me the pen, I'll do that." He said. "You eat your breakfast."

* * *

><p>Now, as he walked to reception to buy bottled water he felt kind of bad about having said that, because he suspected the eggs had been the cause of the sudden food poisoning. After all, it was the only thing of any real substance she had eaten in over 24-hours.<p>

When he got to the reception desk, he was met by a pretty Serbian girl, with short dark hair and sparkling green eyes. He immediately thought about doing all kinds of bad things to her. Oh God, he really, really wanted to have sex. It had been over a month of all this Elena agony without Andie as his pressure valve and he was fit to go off. He asked the girl behind the desk for four bottles of water and she sold them to him with a broad smile. As she handed over his change, he spotted an engagement ring. He wondered where the bad Serbian girls were, the ones who could be persuaded to sit on his face. In broken English, the girl wished him a nice day. He tried very, very hard not to use his baby blues on her and marched down the corridor, feeling pissed off about everything in this situation, but most of all, that he was sharing a room with the source of his tension…

* * *

><p>After breakfast, they had returned to their room in order to collect up what they needed for the day. Elena had been bustling about, then she had sat down suddenly.<p>

"What is it?" He had asked her.

"I don't know. I just needed to sit down for a moment." She had said. "It's fine. I felt a bit dizzy, but it's already passed."

He had turned his back on her in order to fill a small backpack that he had found in Jeremy's bag (he really _had_ been organized), and when he turned back around he found she had his holdall open. Her face was pale as she held aloft one of the blood bags it contained.

"Why didn't you tell me it was blood?" She asked. He shrugged. She looked inside the holdall. "There's so much of it. I don't understand, we don't intend to be here that long. Why did you bring so much?" She looked at him with a curious expression. When he didn't say anything, her expression began to change. "It's not for you is it?" She said, as the truth dawned on her. "Oh God." She looked away, tears sprung to her eyes.

Stefan had a problem – a serious one. They could wean him off when they got him back to the US, but until then, he would need a lot of blood, or he could lose control and become dangerous. Getting that amount of blood together was what had taken him the two days before they had left to organize. It had been just enough time to arrange the medical paperwork to get the blood through the airports without a hitch. He looked at Elena as she worked it out. She bit her bottom lip, zipped up the bag and got up. He was about to speak, when suddenly she dashed for the bathroom and vomited violently. He frowned. He hadn't expected her to take it so badly.

"Elena," he had walked over to the bathroom and knocked on the door, "are you okay? Let me in." There had been a pause and then she vomited again. He tried the door and found it was locked. "Elena, open the door."

She had eventually let him in and he was surprised at how bad she looked.

* * *

><p>And now, here he was, stroking her neck and worrying about what to do. She had said to him three times to go ahead without her, not to lose time, to focus on the important thing which was finding Stefan and getting him the hell out of the there – but he felt rooted to the spot. He'd never seen her like this. Her vulnerability brought out something in him, something he didn't expect. He felt immensely protective of her. The worry went much deeper than the actual level of concern the situation probably demanded. His whole body prickled with it.<p>

She was dressed in a zipped sweatshirt over a t-shirt and she stood on shaking legs and tried to take it off. She struggled with the zip. He put his hands on hers and undid it for her. He began pushing the sweatshirt off her shoulders and realized how close he was to her. Suddenly he caught a scent that threaded itself under the lingering smell of vomit. It was something bitter. He felt for it, sought it out and tried to separate it from her usual scent and the sickness. There _was_ something, he was sure of it. He leaned closer, so that his lips were almost at her cheek. What with that and the fact that he still had hold of her sweatshirt, she mistook his intention entirely. She took a half step back. "Damon!" She admonished, "What are you doing?"

"Keep still. Let me smell you."

"What? No!" She shrugged his hands off and took her sweatshirt off herself, turning away from him so she could place it over the bathtub. He reached out and gripped her arms firmly, pinning them against her body.

"Let me smell you." He insisted. She wriggled, but had no strength to push him off. He leaned in close to her neck from behind and breathed in deeply. There! Yes he was right, there was definitely something - something that the acrid smell of the vomit had almost masked. This sickness was not food poisoning. He was certain of it. He dropped his hands and she turned to face him with an angry look.

"You've been poisoned." He said to her. Her expression changed immediately.

"What?"

"You've been poisoned. I can smell it inside of you."

"Jesus…" She sat down on the edge of the bath. He squatted down to her level and placed his hands on her knees.

"I need to get you help." She thought about it and shook her head in the negative. He looked at her and pushed strands of her hair behind her ear. He left his hand on her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"I should never have let you come here." He said almost to himself.

"Klaus expected us."

"It looks that way."

She looked down at him and he met her gaze.

"Fuck that bastard. I don't care what happens to me. All I know is that we don't leave this place until we get Stefan back. Okay?" She reached for his hands and gripped them in her own. She was making a pact with him. He slowly nodded his agreement.

Suddenly he understood the truth as clear as day. It wasn't her fragility that made him want to be with her. It was her strength.


	5. Single Bed

**NB: There is some blood letting in this chapter. **

**This chapter is for toffeenutlatte.**

* * *

><p><strong>Atlanta Burns<strong>

**Chapter 5: Single Bed**

"What's up?" He said, fuzzily coming round from sleep, aware that Elena's crying had seeped into his consciousness and woken him. He caught a glance at the neon of an ancient clock radio that a previous traveler had probably left behind and saw that it was 2:37am.

"Nothing." She said, quickly brushing away tears as if they betrayed a weakness. "Go back to sleep."

"Move over." He instructed in the kind of tone that he hoped would receive no argument. He got up out of his makeshift bed on the floor and rolled the stiffness out of his neck and shoulder blades. She wriggled back against the wall and he vaulted with feline grace into the tiny bed beside her, pulling the cheap cotton sheet up over them both. He could feel the heat from her body imprinted on the mattress beneath him. He leaned on his arm and looked at her. "Are you feeling worse?" She said no, but he smelled her anyway just to be sure. She didn't bother to protest and he relaxed a little when he knew the poison hadn't deepened its grasp - even if somewhat depressingly it hadn't relinquished any of its hold on her in all this time. "What's up? This isn't like you." He said, feeling like he could say that with some authority now, after everything they had been through together.

"He's never going to be the same again, is he?" She asked. His good night vision allowed him to see her eyes searching for the truth in his own. He used his thumb to brush away a remaining tear from her face, with the practicality of a fussy Aunt.

"He changed before." He said reasonably keeping his face steady. "Got off the blood and sorted himself out. Then he met you." He added, with all that that implied. He felt his jaw twitch.

"I know." She said, as if she didn't quite believe him. "It's just that…"

"The trouble is Elena," he interrupted, "is that you forget that every day he suppresses who he is to be with you. Who he is right now - the killing and the blood lust – that's what it means to be a vampire." He didn't mean to give her the cold, hard truth, but perhaps he was too tired of this whole damn trip to wrap it up in cotton wool. No, he regretted saying that, he really did. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that… I guess I'm just tired."

"I know you are." She said without any hint of blame in her voice. She knew what this trip was taking out of them both. And ever since the 'incident', the real risk of staying here for him. "Damon, do you think it's hopeless?"

He thought about that for a moment and then shook his head. "No. Just insanely difficult. We've been here the best part of three weeks and we still haven't gotten ahead of him, or predicted where he will be next. We just follow in the wake of his destruction." He went quiet for a moment, as did she; it was impossible not to speak about Stefan's movements without recalling the images that were being played on a loop on every media outlet in the country. His latest atrocity had brought hell upon them. He wondered how many vampires had already gone to ground. Anything but be hunted down by angry mobs. He snorted, there was something so medieval about all this, it surely felt like Klaus's sense of humor at work even though they were both at a loss to see what he hoped to gain from it.

"Its so dangerous for you now. Since, well… you know." She said. The media called it the 'Leskovac Mall Massacre', but neither of them had brought themselves to use the term. At least Stefan's face had not been captured. That was some small mercy.

"It's no less dangerous for me than it is for you to be found with me. And you haven't left me yet. Even though I wish you would."

"I'm not going anywhere without you, Damon. Or Stefan either." Was it his imagination, or had she added his brother's name as an afterthought? "Anyway, we've already had this argument a dozen times." She added stubbornly.

"And I'll say it again until you start listening, it's not safe for you here. Let me do this alone. You're sick, I want you to go home. I promise I won't leave here until I find him."

"If I leave, then Klaus wins. And besides we made a pact, and I for one, intend to stick to it."

* * *

><p>He sighed. Elena was just as stubborn here as she was in America. He flipped onto his back and put his arms behind his head as best he could in the space he had and she surprised him by moving closer and resting her head on his chest. So strange, here they were, lying in bed together, wearing nothing but their underwear and yet those feelings he had battled so hard with over the months beforehand, had somewhat altered. It wasn't that he didn't still want to make to love to her (of course he would given half the chance), but this trip had changed everything. They were with each other twenty-four-seven. It was physical and exhausting. At first they had been scared out of their wits that Klaus would send more people after them and he had done wildly risky things like compelling strangers to let them stay a night in their home rather than stay anywhere which would leave a paper trail. Then they had been on the move almost constantly, following the trail of deaths.<p>

Of course her sickness had slowed her down. Even though she had swiped some drugs that had helped, she ate like a mouse and had no strength. She couldn't carry anything. They had long since abandoned the luggage, especially the blood, which was the last thing he wanted to be caught with now. Jer's expensive laptop, cell phone, flash drives, USBs, clothes, even the rucksack itself - all gone. Funny what you could do without when you had to. Like him she had the clothes on her back, the money in her pocket and nothing else. Passport, credit cards, her tickets home, even the silver necklace that Stefan had given her that contained vervain. He told her not to throw _that_ away - said she would regret it later, but she had said a little thing like that wasn't going to stop Klaus or his vampires anyway. He suspected she had deliberately misunderstood his meaning. Maybe she didn't want mementos of her relationship with Stefan right now. He didn't delve too deeply. Perhaps it was best to keep it simple. No keepsakes, no clues, no identity.

She never complained, not even when they had followed so many dead ends or trekked on foot for miles only to have their day end by sleeping in a barn. When they slept, it was side by side, because it felt safer that way. She had been plagued with cold sweats and on her weakest day, he had had to help her to bathe. She had been dressed in a t-shirt, but it had felt intimate anyway, washing her hair for her because she could barely lift her arms. He had lost count of the times he had helped her over walls, or under fences. His hand automatically reached for hers now even when they crossed a road. They had completely lost their boundaries. So when she rested her head on him now, it felt okay. Natural.

* * *

><p>The amber street light that shone into their room gave everything an alien glow. It blinked on and off randomly. Right now they were plunged into darkness. Not that he was complaining - after all, they had been lucky to get this room anyway. True, it was just a single bed, but at least they were alone. He didn't know why they hadn't thought of going to a hostel before. It was much safer than some of the places they had stayed. And beautifully anonymous too. They were just two more American tourists traveling through Europe. No-one paid them any attention. It sure beat the nights sleeping rough and stealing clothes from washing lines. The constant threat of being caught seemed to abate here, even though that was probably just an illusion. They couldn't stay here for more than one night, but it sure was nice to have a hot shower and for Elena at least, a real bed.<p>

"Did you kill that man, Costel?" She asked him suddenly. He stiffened and sighed.

"I'm not going through this again." He shifted away from her, forcing her to move and roll onto her front as best she could. As the amber street light blinked on again it was even clearer to him that she was fixing him with one of her no-nonsense glares.

"I want the truth this time, Damon. Did you kill him?" He sulked, but he knew he couldn't deflect this any more. Every day since they had run from that hotel she had asked him. He raised himself onto his elbows and stared back at her.

"Why do you want to know? I mean, really. What will it achieve?"

She frowned and her voice softened. "Are you afraid of what I might think of you if I know the truth?" She said. He winced. Goddamn, how did she _always_ get right to the heart of the matter? Ok this bed really _was _too small; he wanted to be anywhere else but here right at this moment. He could feel the touch of her arm against his, the hairs intertwined.

"I already know what you think of me."

"Do you?" She said, a smile creeping into her voice at last. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

"You think I'm dangerous and rash. You think I can be somebody better than I am. You think I can reclaim my humanity if you just work on me long enough. You think I can be more like Stefan – _good_ Stefan that is, before all this nightmare began..."

There was silence and she went quiet before she answered. "No, Damon. I asked you what _I_ thought of you, not what _you_ thought of you." He grew quiet; he didn't know how to respond to that. "When did you last eat?" She asked him, changing the subject.

"Its not important." Actually it was. He hadn't eaten in over a week. His strength was wavering and maybe that's why he had little patience for this line of questioning. Getting hold of blood by legitimate methods would have been a total a nightmare. Butchers, hospitals, doctor's surgeries – all of them were policed, watched, guarded. Everything was on lockdown since people knew that vampires didn't just exist in story books. He'd eaten wild animals since they had ditched the blood he had brought with him, but now they were back in the city, that was impossible. Killing anything here was out of the question.

"Fine. You don't want to talk about that, so let's talk about Costel." She repeated. He fixed her with a glare that he doubted she could see as much as feel.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to." He kept his voice low and threatening but she brushed aside his bullshit easily.

"Just tell me the truth."

"I killed him. Is that what you want to hear? What's more I'm glad I killed the son-of-a-bitch." He said angrily. The force of his words surprised even himself. "He _poisoned_ you."

"You had no proof of that." Actually he hadn't, but he wasn't about to admit that to her.

* * *

><p>In fact, the whole incident had unnerved him. After Elena had been initially been taken ill, he had persuaded her to take a couple of hours rest before they left that compromised hotel for good. As soon as she had fallen asleep, he had locked her inside their room and then compelled the female receptionist into taking him to Costel.<p>

Talking the lanky receptionist into inviting him into his own home had been oddly easy. "Who sent you?" He had shouted at him. The man had stared back at him with a fixed smile, despite being held up against a wall by the throat with two inches of space between his feet and the floor. He worked overtime trying to compel him, but the man did not respond. When he looked at him,_ really _looked at him, he wondered how he hadn't seen it before. The man clearly didn't function under his own free will; he had been so deeply compelled, that he would never reach him. It could only be the work of an Original.

"Did you poison my friend?" He had asked. The man had stared blankly back, with that same fixed grin on his face. Fine. He had wanted a chance to beat it out of him anyway and so he had taken it. He had tried a back-handed slap. Nothing. "How do we cure the poison?" He used his free arm to punch him in the stomach. The man bent double saying 'oof', but his facial expression barely changed. "Did Klaus send you?" The receptionist had just begun to laugh. It was a deep throaty laugh that sounded like for all the world like it was being channeled through him. "Where is Klaus?" He had slapped him again. "Answer my questions, goddamn you!"

"Welcome to Serbia." Costel had replied. "I hope you are enjoying your stay."

The man had given him the coldest dead-eyed smile he had ever experienced. It had sent a chill right through him. He had flipped. He didn't mean to lose control, but back in the hotel, Elena was lying poisoned in her bed, Stefan was goodness knows where and he felt Klaus was laughing at him.

He had snapped Costel's neck so violently he tore the skin.

* * *

><p>"He was working for Klaus and he was dangerous."<p>

"He didn't need to die."

"I disagree." He said and took the opportunity to put his palm on her forehead before she pushed him away. His hand came away clammy.

"You're as weak as a kitten. You're still sick. He did that to you. What was I supposed to do?"

"He had been compelled. It wasn't his fault." She said ruefully. He felt irritated because her taking a shred off of him was actually working. Perhaps it was because deep down he felt some guilt.

"I'm sorry, if that helps." He couldn't believe he was saying that, but she seemed unimpressed anyway.

"I don't see that it makes any difference how you feel about it. He's still dead." She turned over onto her side facing the wall, leaving him looking at the back of her head. He placed an arm around her but she shrugged him off.

After a while she spoke again. "You need blood." She said matter-of-factly.

"I told you, I'm fine."

"If you drink mine it will keep you going, at least for a bit. I figure the poison won't hurt you. After all, it was meant for me, we know that or he would have targeted the coffee that you drank too and not just my eggs. I'm willing to bet the poison would have no effect on you."

"I don't care, Elena. I'm not drinking your blood. You hardly have any strength as it is."

"I'm not being ridiculous, I'm being practical. Your plan, to be in Belgrade. It's good. You are right - everything Klaus has made Stefan do to date has been more and more public. I am certain he will be planning something big here. I think this is our last chance. So listen to me. I am already weak so if you make me weaker it's not going to make any difference. But if _you _get weak and Klaus comes after us, then we are both dead. Plus you have to be strong enough to get Stefan." He thought about it and actually her insane idea had a grain of sense in it. He didn't have to like it though.

"I'm not doing it." He said.

"If you do it now, I could rest, get some strength back now and we'll be ready by nightfall. That's when they've struck before."

"No. I don't like it." She wriggled and turned to face him, the amber light reflecting in her eyes.

"You don't have to like it. I don't much like it either. But this isn't about what we like any more is it?" She said. He was surprised at the steel in her voice. He knew he wasn't getting out of this. He went quiet for a moment before he spoke.

"I should take it from your neck. If I take it from anywhere else and you are caught, people will say you have been conspiring with a vampire. At least this way, you could say you were attacked."

"Okay. Makes sense." She pushed her hair back from her neck and exposed her throat to him. He sighed, he didn't like this one bit. Still, he had to get it over with. He moved at speed until he was straddling her, his body pressing hers down into the cheap mattress. She was on her side, her upper body half twisted to face him, a little bit afraid of the coming pain. His teeth protracted.

He leaned into her, the muscles of his forearms growing taut as they took his weight. He hesitated and she swallowed hard. He didn't want to do this, but he put his lips to her throat and let his teeth penetrate her flesh. She tensed beneath him and he drew the blood from her, closing his eyes and sucking hard, feeling the strength of it flooding him. The coppery smell enveloped him. He was lost in it. Everything she was was contained in that blood. He wanted it more than ever before and it was the knowledge of that desperate need that made him stop. She made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh and he pulled out, leaving two neat puncture wounds on her neck. He moved off of her, aware that the blood had been rushing to every place, not just his throat. He collapsed onto his back and then turned to look at her, feeling guilty about how much he had enjoyed that. She seemed to know it too, as she was blushing. She turned to face him once again, her right hand pressed against the wound. He turned to face her too and lifted her hand away so he could inspect it.

"Let me see. Its fine. It's a clean wound. It will heal quick enough." He fell back away from her and she grew quiet. "I'll let you go back to sleep." He said suddenly feeling that he had to put space between them. He moved as if to get off the bed, but her hand reached out and touched his shoulder.

"Damon, don't go." He looked at her, even with his sight it was hard to see what was in her eyes.

"Elena, Stefan's not the only one who struggles with control..." He said honestly. He wasn't talking about blood and they both knew it. But he paused and thought hard about whether he could do what she asked of him.

"Please don't let me sleep alone tonight." He swallowed hard. Since they had been on the move, they had slept next to each other many times, but the blood – the blood changed everything. Decision made, he stroked her cheek once.

"You aren't alone. I'm here for you." He said, then slid out of the bed and settled back down on the floor.


	6. King of the World

**Atlanta Burns**

**Chapter 6: King of the World**

"So, what you are saying, is that you need not one, but two, privately chartered planes." She gave a short sharp laugh.

"Yes."

"And papers. By this evening. Which according to my watch, leaves me with about six hours."

"Yes. Passports and visas for all three of us. Don't tell me you can't do it, because I know you can." Getting fake papers was as simple as breathing to a vampire; he knew she had the connections and the cash to achieve both his requests. What he asked for, he knew would come at a different kind of price.

"So, this is what you had four armed cops bash down my door for this morning is it? You always did have a taste for the melodramatic, Damon Salvatore." The comment made him recall his frosty phone call with Liz this morning. Achieving her help had not been easy. He had been thankful he had Caroline on his side.

"Katherine, will you do it, or not?"

"I will require something in return, Damon."

"I don't doubt it..."

"I want Stefan."

"What do you mean, 'you want Stefan'? He's not some package that I can just deliver to you."

"I mean, you want the impossible and so do I. Those are the terms, Damon. It's up to you whether you accept them or not." He could almost hear her smirk.

"Look, get us out of here and then we'll talk."

"No."

He sighed with exasperation. He couldn't decide whether what she asked for was impossible, immoral or both. "I can't _make_ Stefan come to you. He doesn't want you. And besides he's with Elena now. " He ran a hand through his hair, he didn't have time for this right now and she knew it.

"Oh yes, that would leave precious little Elena all on her own, wouldn't it. My my, what would she do for company?" She taunted. He bit back a response to her insinuation and avoided the issue of her statement's veracity. "Tick tock, Damon. The more you procrastinate, the less likely it is I can meet your ridiculous demands."

"He has free will; I can't deliver what you are asking for, even if I wanted to."

"But you do want to - don't you?" She purred, her voice the ultimate in sugar-coated sweetness.

What she offered was possibly a far worse trap than the one they were in right now. His mind fired off in tangents, but he tried to think through logically what she asked. Putting aside whether he could 'deliver' Stefan to her or not, he tried to consider what would that mean. For one, Stefan didn't love her any more - his love was for Elena alone. In a way, that truth was the same for both Stefan _and_ him. What this boiled down to was the fact that right now Katherine held the keys to Elena's safety. She was the only person who could get them out of this mess. What's more, he was fully aware that in his present state, Stefan was a danger to Elena. He couldn't be around her until he was off the blood, and achieving that would take time. Who would look after him until then? Caroline? Possibly - she would understand what he was going through, but did she have the physical strength? Bonnie? Maybe - but what if her magic abandoned her again? However, they were both still at school and babysitting a dangerously out-of-control vampire would be a full time job - which counted out Alaric and Jeremy too. That left just him. But could he be two places at once? Elena would need him too when they got home, of that he was certain. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. He needed time to think through the implications, but time was a luxury he couldn't afford.

He took a deep breath and answered her.

"I'll do what you ask." Her laugh was like liquid-honey, a sound that once he had loved very much. Now, he slammed the phone down.

* * *

><p>"Please give a warm welcome to the show, Niklaus Dimitrov, who has come in today to talk to us about the problem sweeping our beautiful country, and indeed the world." The interpreter whispered his translation into the ear of the man sat next to him as the audience applauded. The microphones picked it up, but an ordinary human would not have been able to hear the words over the noise of the applause.<p>

"Thank you, Dejan. I am very pleased to be here. But please, call me Klaus." The man said with a smile, as the interpreter translated his words back into Serbian for the benefit of the interviewer and the audience.

Watching Klaus on stage - arms folded over his stomach, wearing chinos and casual shirt, calm but intelligent eyes appraising the audience before him - you never would believe that you were in the presence of a mighty and unchecked power. It was perhaps his greatest skill; he knew how to blend. Tonight Klaus was the epitome of the ordinary man, the 'one of us' the audience would warm to. It sent a chill through right through him.

Taking his eyes of Klaus for a moment, he looked down from the Studio 4 viewing gallery to where Elena was seated. He wished he had been able to stop her, but he had not been able to. She wanted to be where he couldn't - in the audience, even though they both knew there was a risk that Klaus would detect her scent. Who knew the extent of an Original's powers? He may well be able to pick her out from over two hundred or so guests. Especially as he had the senses of a werewolf and not just a vampire.

Through the one-way glass of the viewing gallery, he knew she couldn't see him, but she fixed on his approximate position and he spotted the tension in her eyes. It was a tension they both shared. Was she safe? He didn't know. Everything they did right now was a risk, but they had run out of time and options. They knew deep down that there were no more chances, they had to get Stefan today or it would be too late. The fact that just by being here, Klaus had proved his theory more than right was evidence enough of that.

"So Klaus," the interviewer continued, "you are a self-styled 'vampire hunter'. Tell us, when did you know that this was a skill you had?"

* * *

><p>Breaking in to the television studios had not been necessary, even though that is what they had planned to do. In the end, they had waltzed in the front door and joined the studio tour that had been gathered in the front lobby. It was Elena's idea, and he had to confess it had been a smart one. They had walked with the bi-lingual tour guide around Serbia's biggest television station, posing as newly-weds and biding their time until they could peel away and hide out in an empty dressing room until the rest of the group had passed.<p>

It was only when they entered the little cheerless dressing room that he had realised the truth. Elena was sick. _Really_ sick. She had successfully concealed it from him all morning, playing on his preoccupation with their getting inside the building - but as soon as they entered the room, she immediately crumpled onto the frayed purple couch inside.

"What's wrong?" He said, stepping towards her.

"I just need to... I just need to catch my breath." Her breathing was shallow as an asthmatic's and her skin looked almost jaundiced.

"You're in pain." He stated simply and placed his hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly as he looked in her eyes. She tried to look strong, but a spasm took hold of her and she clamped her stomach with both hands.

"It's nothing." She lied, quickly dropping her hands as soon as the cramp passed. She could pretend all she liked that the pain didn't exist, but she couldn't disguise the sweat on her brow.

"It sure looks like nothing." He said scathingly, placing his hands where hers had been and applying a gentle pressure; she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out. "That hurts?"

"Just some cramping, that's all." He could tell from her face that there was more to it than that.

"What else?"

"Nothing."

"What else?" He repeated forcefully.

"Some bleeding." A look of horror crossed his face and she hurried to clarify, "A bit of spotting, that's all. Nothing to worry about. It's not serious."

He chewed his lip and felt a mixture of anxiety and anger.

"Damn!" He hit his fist off the wall above her head. She reached up to stop him, but he was in no mood for consolatory gestures.

"Damon, please. Calm down. It doesn't change anything." He wasn't listening. He was furious with himself for having taken blood from her that she clearly couldn't afford to lose. All of this was his fault. All of it. She reached out and touched his chest, forcing him to look down into her eyes. " We knew this might happen. We carry on with the plan."

There really was only one way out of this. Getting her home was all that mattered now. They fell quiet. He stewed in his thoughts until she finally interrupted them.

"Damon, how do we know this is right?" She asked. "Perhaps he won't target a TV station? Maybe he will pick a hospital, or a school. Those places are public too." The horror of that thought was writ large on her face.

"I don't think so. I think everything Klaus has done to date has been leading us here. He's chasing the media attention. He's coming to the source, Elena. I feel it, I just don't know the reason why."

She nodded. She trusted him even if he didn't much trust himself. He just had to hope that he was right.

"I'm going to take a look at the studios."

"What if someone comes?"

"I changed the sign on the door from green to red, which I guess means occupied, so I think you'll be fine." He brushed his hand along her cheek. "I'll be back soon. Wait here and try and get some sleep." She nodded and he knew it was bad when she didn't even argue.

* * *

><p>He had discovered the viewing galleries easily. Each of the eight studios had one above it; they acted as an eagle's nest from which a tour party or visitor could view the activities in the studios below. The first three studios were set up for children's programmes and sit-coms, but the fourth had been set for a chat show. He had been about to leave, when the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He turned and walked back to look once more out of the one-way glass. To his shock, he saw Klaus stood on the stage, being introduced by a floor manager to a man who was clearly an interviewer.<p>

Time to get back to Elena.

* * *

><p>His eyes scanned the audience, looking to see if Klaus' vampires were hidden there somewhere but no-one stood out. Klaus meanwhile, had the audience eating out of his hands. He had explained to them that he was an ordinary hunter and had discovered the existence of vampires long before the Leskovac Mall Massacre brought them to the public's attention. He had come to Serbia, like many hunters, to see if he could track those vampires and stop them. He said he wanted to specialise in killing vampires now, as he felt they were "a scourge the earth could be cured of". Trying to understand Klaus' end game was impossible. The man lied convincingly and audience was eating him up, but he just couldn't see what his lies were achieving.<p>

Klaus' _piece-de-resistance_ was when the interviewer asked him about the tools of his trade. The Original told him that he crafted his own weaponary and then asked if the audience would like to take a look. Of course they did. He opened the bag at his feet and revealed a series of increasingly archaic looking weapons, each featuring wooden projectiles that would kill a vampire. The audience applause was enthusiastic. Finally, he pulled out a good old-fashioned stake and the interviewer said "Well even I recognise that one, Klaus. Are you telling me that stakes would work against a vampire in real life?", " Oh yes, Dejan, this is something that an ordinary person could fashion themselves. I'm not recommending it of course as it is kind of a dirty, rough solution - but it will work. I have killed more than one vampire using this most basic of implements." The audience began to mutter in positive agreement; he had them eating out of his hands. There was a scattering of further applause.

"I believe you have brought some never-seen-before footage for us, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Dejan. I warn you, it's quite shocking."

"I think we have it set up. Please run VT." He said to the voicepiece in his ear. The screens that were suspended in the ceiling above them flicked from the live studio feed to the VT footage. Every eye was fixed upon them.

His own eyes however sought Elena in the audience; the first he knew of the content of the footage was her response to it. He saw her lift a hand to her mouth. Her head drooped and it was then that he finally let his eyes drift to the screen above him. Everything after that seemed to happen in slow-motion. The footage was grainy, undoubtedly shot from two, maybe even three different security cameras and spliced together. There was no mistaking the image on the screen. It was him. And he was talking his way into Costel's house. He knew what came next. He had held Costel by the throat, beaten the receptionist for information and tried to compel him again and again. On the footage there was no sound, but you didn't need sound to interpret what you saw. Even to himself, he realised he looked unhinged - an evil vampire beating a defenseless human again and again, then trying to do 'vampire magic' on him. The 'brave man' had clearly resisted. No wonder it had been easy getting inside Costel's home; it was the perfect trap and he had walked right into it. Klaus knew how he would react to the poisoning of Elena and had set him up beautifully. Killing Costel had been part of his plan.

He sank to his knees and closed his eyes; he didn't need to see what came next. He heard the collective gasp from the audience as the video version of him snapped Costel's neck. He balled his fists against the window and dropped his head against it, his eyelashes brushed against the cool glass. He rolled his forehead back and forth, back and forth...

When the footage was over, there was a moments silence and then as one, the audience erupted. Some got to their feet and shouted curses, a few people openly began to cry. Fear, revulsion and panic moved through the studio like living creatures. Maybe Elena was one of them; she had every right to be. He looked at her now, slumped forwards in her seat with her head in her hands. If she looked his way now, he was as good as dead.

Suddenly, there was a kerfuffle from behind the stage. There was an ear-piercing shriek that rose above the already heightened noise of the crowd. People got to their feet and tried to leave. The interviewer's attempts to restore calm were completely underminded when three vampires suddenly burst onto the stage, dripping in blood, preceeded by a production crew running for their lives. The crowd crawled over themselves; a heaving mass attempting to flee. The vampires lept high into the air and landed in three different sections of the crowd. One of them was a familiar face.

"Stefan..." He whispered to himself, as he watched his baby brother tear the throat out of an elderly man. He hit his head on the glass again and again. Nobody would have heard the sound above the screaming.

* * *

><p>When he could bring himself to look out again, two things happened simulataneously. Firstly, Elena got up from her seat and turned towards his brother. She called out to him across the noise and the chaos. Lip-reading told him it was one word, <em>"STEFAN!"<em>

Secondly, Klaus calmly leaned down and raised his crossbow. He shot one of the vampires square in the back with uncanny accuracy. The audience were so busy climbing over one another that they failed to see it at first. But one camera caught it all. One camera was all it took.

With a clarity that he had not felt in months, Klaus' plan became clear to him now. As he watched the Original take down his own vampire, he understood. People were beginning to turn to Klaus now, crying out to him to help them - begging him to shoot again. This was need in its rawest form. They wanted someone to lead them, to deliver them from the vampire threat, and here was Klaus demonstrating how he was the answer to their prayers. He didn't want Serbia - he wanted the world. And this was how he would do it. Create the problem, then be the solution - it was audacious, brilliant even. The man wanted to be crowned a King, and for that he needed a reputation and a domain. Today's Kings were made by the media, he understood that. Panic and fear would be his tools, and the media would do the rest. The camera's single-eyed focus was all on him...

The Original raised his crossbow and his second vampire went down.

Pausing for the briefest of moments as people cried out to him for help, Klaus turned and looked directly at the viewing gallery as if he could see right through the glass. He gave the slightest of smiles. He looked away again, then raised his crossbow at the remaining of his last three vampires - Stefan. He cocked his weapon, and fired.


	7. Under the Stars

**This is a double final chapter (I could have split this, but I feel it reads better as one). There is an important epilogue, which is why I haven't marked the story as complete.**

* * *

><p><strong>Atlanta Burns<strong>

**Chapter 7: Under the Stars**

Undoubtedly Elena calling his brother's name had been what saved Stefan's life. From the viewing gallery he could see that Stefan had reacted and stepped towards her just as Klaus' crossbow bolt whistled past his left ear and thudded into the wall behind him. That did it. Enough was enough. He couldn't just sit idly by and watch Elena face down two dangerous, unpredictable killers. If he was going to die today, then so help him God, it would be protecting her.

He wrenched open the gallery door without unlocking it first and ran down the stairs three at a time.

Like a salmon swimming upstream he shoved his way through the blood soaked mob running the other way - people were too hysterical to realize that the cause of their hysteria was amongst them. Someone had pulled the fire alarm and now the whole building was evacuating. It was complete and utter chaos. He called out Elena's name over and over, but couldn't see her. By the time he finally pushed his way into the studio, the three people he sought were alone.

Klaus wandered over to the remaining working camera and unhooked the power cable. The image on the screens above died and went to static.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Damon. Did you enjoy the show?" Klaus said without even looking up, confirming he had known of his presence the whole time.

"Not really my cup of tea."

"Pity. Personally I thought it was most illuminating." Klaus finally looked at him, and he felt the power of the Original's gaze move over him. There was a pause whilst they considered each other.

"Let them live, Klaus. I don't care what you do to me." The supernatural in front of him began to laugh; it was a deep and throaty chuckle.

"Oh Damon, you don't get it, do you? I have no interest in your precious brother or his little girlfriend. Besides, I don't think I could care about them quite as much as _you_ do, could I?" As per Klaus' intention, the slightly lascivious emphasis on the final part of that sentence was not lost on him. So the Original was using how he felt about Elena against him? Of course he was. He'd didn't miss a trick. He was two steps ahead of them and then some. Klaus continued, "In about two hours time, when the studio staff have the guts to come back, they will crawl over the bodies of their dead just to reach the material recorded on that camera." He pointed to the camera he had just unplugged. "And that lovely little home-video of you I think will compliment the footage quite nicely. So photogenic, you and your brother. I really am quite envious. All I can hope for is that the camera caught my good side."

"You don't have one."

"Oh, that's very droll, Damon. Perhaps I underestimated your intelligence after all." The Original smiled, before the smile clean fell away. He walked over to collect his bag of tricks and slung it over his shoulder. "You know what, I will rather enjoy watching your progress now that the world is paying attention." His mouth cracked once more into that same dead-eyed phony expression. He began to walk to the back of the stage, but then turned around and added with genuine enthusiasm, "You know, I _like_ this era, don't you? It's never boring is it?"

"I will come for you, Klaus. One day."

At that, the Original threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Oh, Damon. I like you. And that is why I am giving you what I believe hunters call 'a sporting chance'." He began to move again, whistling a jaunty tune as he strolled towards the exit. He paused at the door and added, "Goodbye children and good luck. I mean that _most_ sincerely." He stepped over a fallen body and was gone.

* * *

><p>Stefan was staring at Elena as if she were an hors d'oeuvre, and his body had automatically moved into a pounce position; the scent of her blood was driving him wild.<p>

"Back off, Stefan. We are all walking out of here. Alive."

He looked at his brother. No, this empty shell wasn't his brother. This was what was left when there was no human to balance out the vampire. Even when he had been the Ripper before, he had never lost what had made him pass as human. That is what had made him so damned notorious. But now, he was just a beast; a bundle of predatory instincts and reactions - emotion didn't enter into it. He frowned. Could Elena draw Stefan out? Could either of them? They had no time to find out.

"Damon, let me speak to him." Elena whispered from behind him, her breath tickling his ear.

"No. He doesn't recognize you."

"He reacted when I called his name."

"We have to leave. People are coming."

"I am doing it, Damon." She said stubbornly and moved out from position her behind him. His eyes didn't leave Stefan, if he pounced, it sure wasn't going to be Elena's throat he would find.

"Stefan. It's me, your little angel." She said, coloring. "You remember, don't you?" Stefan's eyes glinted malevolently, but he remained mute.

"Elena, there is no more time, we have to -"

"Elena?" When his brother spoke, his voice was as soft as a whisper. "Elena..." Stefan said again, more insistently this time. It sounded as though Stefan were on the verge of tears. To his side he could sense that Elena had taken a step towards his brother, and in turn his brother took a step towards her. Oh no, he wasn't having that. He stepped between them again.

"Damon, please!" She said with exasperation, her shortness of breath painfully evident. "Get out of the way."

"Not a chance." He said over his shoulder, his eyes still on his brother who looked confused.

"Damon, I may not make it home," she whispered, "you have to let me go to him."

"No. Nobody else is dying today." He felt for her wrist behind him and grabbed it tight so she could not move away. He spoke instead. "Stefan, please brother, listen to me now. If you love this woman as much as you say you do, you know that she isn't safe around you at the moment. I can get you both out of here, but you have to do what I say." He looked for signs of life in Stefan, but was met with vacant eyes. "Elena." He lowered his voice to address her, but he could tell she was pulling away from him. She cried out in pain. A cramp made her fold double. He released her wrist and spun around to face her. Outside sirens began to wail. The sense of time running out began to overwhelm him.

"You have to let me carry you." He didn't like the note of panic in his own voice.

"No." Damn her stubbornness!

"Please!" If he had to, he was not too proud to beg. He looked towards the door. They had only moments; he could hear that the emergency services had entered the main gates. "I need to get you out of here. We have to move."

"Leave me here. Maybe dying is the only way to escape this nightmare." She was almost on her knees now. Her forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat. Her hand gripped the chairs to her right, hard. Stefan watched her intently. She flicked her eyes to his brother before gripping her stomach once more in pain.

"You don't want to die." He said, more certain of that than anything he had ever said. He put his hands on either side of her waist and carefully lifted her to her feet. He sought her eyes, but she looked away. "Elena, I am asking you to trust me. Please. I know I don't deserve it, but I am asking for it. I may not have your heart, but I am only asking for a single moment of your trust. Please Elena, let me get you and my brother out of here." Finally she looked at him, the pain running deep inside her made her bite down on the inside of her cheek. He pressed his point home. "We made a pact, you and I, and I for one, intend to stick to it." He used her own words against her and she knew it. She gazed at him now with a thoughtful expression and eventually, she nodded.

She was off her feet and in his arms before her nod was complete. He was shocked at the amount of weight she had lost. She placed her left arm gently around his neck and her head rested against his chest. He could smell just how much the poison had weakened her system. And now she had let him lift her, he could tell she had stopped fighting her slow decline. She was running out of time. He turned to Stefan behind him, who was eyeing them both warily.

"Stefan, you need to follow behind. We will be moving fast."

He charged towards the doors, and was half surprised when Stefan followed. Maybe he only did so because he sensed his source of food was in front of him.

* * *

><p>The private jets were supposed to leave from Belgrade airport. The fastest way to get there meant taking a cab. He couldn't risk going to the front of the TV station where lots of cabs were gathered, in case any of the studio audience had found their way there and would recognize them.<p>

"I have to get us a cab, Elena. I must put you down." She nodded and he deposited her gently on the curbside and she immediately crumpled down on the ground. He grabbed Stefan by his lapel and dragged him towards the road. They would have to flag a cab down. Stefan went meekly, but looked behind him to where Elena sat with her head resting on her knees. She looked away from them both.

It took ten precious minutes for a cab to finally come over to them. He hustled Stefan into the back of the car and told the driver to wait. Running back to Elena, he helped her to her feet. She leaned on him heavily now.

"Is the driver safe?" She whispered.

"No. You have to hurry." They walked as fast as she could and he put her in the front seat. It was a relief to see Stefan had not moved from where he had been left, but he watched Elena arrive with interest. Still his brother didn't speak.

"Belgrade airport." He said, thinking if Stefan made any sudden moves towards Elena, he would have to kill him. His heart was heavy with the responsibility.

* * *

><p>At the privately entranced airfield, they were met at their car by two uniformed pilots, and a pair of besuited flight attendants. One held a handful of papers in his hands.<p>

"Good evening, sir." An attendant said in heavily Serbian inflected English. "We have your papers, and we are cleared for flight."

"Thank you. I wonder if I could ask you to handle a rather sensitive matter which requires some discretion?"

"Yes of course, sir."

"My traveling companion doesn't enjoy flying and may have had a few too many drinks for Dutch courage, I would be grateful if you could keep an eye on her." The man smiled knowingly.

"No problem, sir. We will make sure she is comfortable."

"I appreciate that."

"I will see to your luggage."

"No luggage."

"Very well, sir. We are ready for final checks from Customs if you are happy to board." The man moved towards Elena, who was still in the cab and put an arm around her, helping take her across the one hundred yards of tarmac to the waiting jet. For safety, she would be traveling alone, while he babysat Stefan in the second jet - something inside him turned over as he watched her go. She didn't look back. As she passed out of his sight, he felt his anxiety grow. This marked more than the end of their journey together, it was something else - indefinable, but definitely there.

Meanwhile Stefan at his side was moving his head like a predator, taking in all the movement around him. With Elena safely inside her plane, he grabbed his brother's arm and marched him up the stairs to their own.

* * *

><p>There was something surreal about the comfort and luxury he now found himself in; being attended on and served fresh-ground coffee from delicate, china cups, when he wasn't even wearing his own clothes. His brother looked equally lost. For the first four hours of the flight, Stefan sat on the edge of his leather chair, staring anxiously from the window to the flight attendant and back, his right leg jiggling up and down. When the attendant finally joined the pilot in the locked security of the cabin, at last they could both relax. His brother automatically calmer now the scent of human blood had moved away.<p>

He noticed that Stefan hadn't drunk any of his coffee, instead allowing it to cool in the cup in front of him. Maybe there really was nothing left of his human self? No. He didn't want to believe that. He suspected that Stefan had deliberately shut himself off in order to deal with the horrific things he had to do. Given time, maybe he would unlock the parts he had buried. Perhaps putting him into Katherine's care was not such a bad thing? She did care for Stefan and was strong enough to deal with him. But if he was honest, he knew Katherine's motives weren't exactly pure and maybe if he was _truly_ honest, maybe his own weren't either.

Sitting back in his chair, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts naturally wander to Elena. Earlier he had asked the attendant to call through to the other plane and check on her and apparently she had been sleeping. That had set his mind at rest. He wondered if she would ever be able to look at him in that same way again now she had seen him kill Costel? It was one thing to know - it was quite another to see.

He was confused by his feelings for her. When she was at risk, or hurting, he felt a deep physical pain. Letting her down made him feel deeply ashamed. Before he met her, he had totally forgotten what guilt felt like, now that feeling regularly made an unwelcome appearance. Conversely, when he made her laugh, it was like someone switched on a light inside of him.

He ran a hand over his face. On this day alone, he felt he had aged more that a couple of hundred years. Ironic really, given the object of his affections was still just a child. Heck, she wasn't even old enough to legally drink! Did that make his attraction creepy? Morally wrong? He suspected it didn't since that wasn't how vampirism worked; it kind of froze you at the age you died - you just got to be that age for a very long time. Certainly his brother had never expressed any guilt in dating her. And she thought of them both as young men, not old souls. Besides, he knew deep down that she felt attracted to him - but then he suspected it was easy when you were seventeen to have your head turned by a man who knew what he wanted and actively pursued it. In life and love, she was still feeling her way. And that was her right.

There was one thing he was fairly sure of though, if she had been sure that Stefan was 'the one', then she would have turned for him. No question. To him, it appeared as though she was hedging her bets - keeping her options open. But maybe her options included cutting both the serial killers out of her life. Who would blame her? And if he loved her, then surely he wanted her to be happy, have a normal life... but somehow he couldn't quite make himself believe that her life should not involve him. Perhaps he just wanted that too much.

As for him, well, he never had been blessed with any patience. Never waited for anything - he wanted the here and now and would pay for it tomorrow. He thrived on the immediate, on being impulsive; if he were ever to have a motto it would be 'don't fret about the consequences' - but slowly and surely, she was eroding that. She made him think - if not exactly _before_ he acted, at least after it. Maybe she was eroding _him_. He wondered if that was a good thing, to be held in such sway? He had long since felt captive to these feelings. Now though, he found himself shocked to find that he was actually considering whether he could wait. Could he let her find her way to him? He had never waited for a woman before, never wanted to. He wondered what that would mean. Maybe his wait would be fruitless anyway, perhaps she would move on and marry a hot-shot banker, have 2.4 children and a dog... but somehow he doubted it. Because if she was that sort of person, neither he (or his brother) would be attracted to her in the first place.

What was it about her anyway? If he could break the mystery, maybe he could expel it. She was beautiful - yes, but his life had not been short of beautiful girls. She was smart beyond her years, but he had dated smarter. She was sweet and thoughtful, vibrant and passionate - all things that he knew were attractive to him, but that did not explain why he held her in such thrall. So it was something else, a thing that he just couldn't unravel. He only knew that when she looked at him, he was defenseless. His mind hummed with thoughts of pulling her close and slipping his tongue between her soft, yielding lips. He wanted to fall into bed with her and make love to her, not for an hour or two, but for days upon days. He knew he would give her every part of himself, just to bury his nose in the crook of her neck and kiss her soft skin.

He looked up and saw her smiling at him. She slipped the straps off her own lace nightgown, but he caught it before it fell. He looked into her eyes, and she told him to let it go -

"Please fasten your seat belts." The pilots voice came over the intercom making him wake with a start. He didn't remember the point at which he had fallen asleep. "We don't wish to alarm you, sir, but we have had some pretty disturbing reports coming out of America and we may have problems landing in your chosen airport."

He shook off the sudden tiredness and pressed the button to speak to the pilot.

"What kind of reports?"

"Civil unrest, sir. A number of airports have been shut down. We hope to find you an airport in Virginia still, but your chosen one is closed due to rioting."

He fell back in his chair. What the...?

"Blood." His brother was looking at him, the word seemed to be a request.

"There isn't any, Stefan. No blood." He said, not unkindly. It was the first word Stefan had spoken to him since they had found him. He felt sad and confused. America was supposed to be their safe haven, now it appeared that Elena wasn't the only one who was poisoned. Clearly it had spread.

He thought about those at home. Were they safe? Had he done the right thing by Jeremy? Would his ghosts look after him, or put him in the path of harm? Could Liz keep Blondie safe? Would Bonnie be protected by the witches? Would Alaric hold it together, or would his grief allow him to fall apart?

And then, there was Katherine. He thought about her. He thought about the promise he made. She had upheld her end of the bargain and he knew he must do the same, but equally, he knew what that meant. He wouldn't let Katherine and Stefan out of his sight. And Elena's anger with him would be a thing to behold.

He went over to Stefan and did up his seatbelt, his brother looked at him and as he was about to sit back down, his wrist was grabbed. He hesitated and looked into Stefan's eyes.

"Damon?"

"Hello, little brother." He put his free hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. Stefan's green eyes searched his for a moment, he released his wrist and then he seemed to retreat back into himself. He went to sit down and was surprised at how grateful and relieved he felt. Stefan was in there somewhere. Perhaps today was not as hopeless as he feared. He strapped himself in.

"Sir, we have permission to land in Atlanta." The pilot's voice came on. Atlanta? Crap. That would take them hours to get home.

"Sure. Thanks for letting me know." He was about to take his finger off the talk button, when he thought to add one more remark. "Do you have any idea yet what is causing the rioting?"

"Well sir, we were told something - but it sounds kind of unlikely to us."

"Was it to do with mind-controlling vampires?"

"Yes sir. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." He hung up.

Shit.

* * *

><p>"Hi, Blondie."<p>

"You can't call here!"

"No, no - don't hang up! Please, Caroline."

"They may be tracing this call. It's not safe for you to call here."

"What's going on?"

"The news Damon, you're everywhere. What have you done?" The latter was not a question, but a statement of shear horror. "You can't come back here. There are Feds crawling all over your home. They have Jeremy in custody. They'll come for Bonnie and I soon, but they won't find us." He hit the phone handset off his forehead when he heard that. His mind racing. "Are you still there?" She said.

"Yes."

"Did you get them out?"

"Yes."

"Then keep them away from here. When you are safe, find a way to tell me where you are. I'll come to you when I can."

"Are you safe?"

"For now. I have to go."

"Blondie?"

"Yes?"

"Run if you have to."

"I will." He heard her breathing. She was scared. "I have to go."

"Take care."

"You too."

* * *

><p>"Ric."<p>

"Hang up. I think they're tracing my calls."

"They can't trace this one." He thought, one benefit from being in the air. "Christ Ric, what is going on?"

"Damon, you have really started something now. From that footage of you they worked out about compelling and within an hour people started fighting, saying people were trying to control their minds. Its insanity, and its global. They came to school, took Jeremy away for questioning. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop them. They say I'm not a relative. Besides, I'm probably next."

Holy crap. He began to shake.

"You have to go underground. Disappear for a while." His friend advised.

"Ric, its Elena... She's sick, really sick." There was a brief silence on the other end.

"I'll come. Where are you?"

"We are going to land in Atlanta. Hartsfield-Jackson International, private entrance."

"That's six or seven hours drive... If I don't turn up to school today, they will suspect me too. That's what its like."

"Alaric, I think she's slipping away." His voice cracked.

"I have a friend, an old family friend. He used to be a doctor but he is retired now; I think he still lives in Atlanta. I'll ask him to collect you - take you wherever you need to go. He shouldn't really drive, but -"

"Thank you."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's been poisoned."

"What kind of poison?"

"I don't know - the man I killed in the film you saw, he put it in her food." Alaric went quiet.

"I see." He said, the edge in his voice softening. "Are you okay? And Stefan?"

"I'm fine. Stefan... not so good."

"I thought that might be the case. Damon, whatever you do, remember you can't compel people. And be careful. Everyone knows your face."

"What about the doctor?"

"He has cataracts, but you are going to have to be careful. If he suspects you're a vampire - I can't help you."

"Alaric, you may need to leave too."

"I'm staying, for Jeremy. I'll get him a lawyer. And they're going to come for me anyway."

"Ric, I'm sorry. For everything."

"Damon, just stay safe okay. Contact me when you land. Let the phone ring three times then hang up."

"Okay."

"Damon, I'll see you soon." He said, more a statement of intent than fact. It was supposed to reassure him, but it scared him more. "Keep safe my friend." He said. He hung up.

* * *

><p>He watched as the old man stepped out of the car, straightening both his his back and a stiff left leg, but despite his shock of white hair and the cataracts that plagued his eyes, the man had the air of someone who was used to being held in some authority.<p>

With Elena lying quiet in his arms, he stood waiting with his hood pulled up. Stefan hovered behind him like a nervous beast who had been cornered and captured. The doctor approached and his medical instincts took over as soon as he saw Elena lying prone. His hand went to her forehead before he had even introduced himself.

"How long has she been running this temperature?"

"Twenty-four hours. But she's been poisoned for weeks."

"Weeks? Well why the hell didn't you do something about it?"

"Its complicated."

"I can't believe you'd be so irresponsible." The old man reprimanded. "Put her in the car. We need to get her to a hospital. Right away."

"No. No hospitals." Elena spoke, her voice a mere whisper.

"Elena, please. We need to get you to a hospital."

"Its too risky for you." She argued.

"Young lady, you need treatment and you need it now. I can't guarantee I can help you." The old man said.

"No hospitals. Damon, promise me." He looked pained.

"Well?" Said the old man.

"Can you treat her?" He asked.

"Well, I don't know. I need more information. I need equipment, probably a charcoal solution..." The man became fretful.

In the airport behind him, was the urgent sound of sirens. He had to get them away from so public a place.

"We need to go. Shall I drive?"

"Yes. I'm not supposed to drive anyway. I'll get in the back with the girl and do what I can." The doctor's eyes flicked to Stefan. "What's his story?"

"Afghanistan."

"Should've brought our boys back a long time ago." The doctor mumbled, then went to take Elena from his arms - but he pulled back.

"I'm stronger than I look, son. She'll be okay with me. You take the keys and you get the boy in the car."

* * *

><p>"Is there are an observatory near here?" He asked the doctor.<p>

"Well, let me see now. There's a planetarium, but its quite a long way out. A couple of hours drive from here."

"Then we better get going."

On the freeway, it was impossible not to notice the abandoned cars and the queues of traffic getting out of the city. Throughout the journey, Elena moaned. The doctor asked her numerous questions and performed a cursory examination. He opened an ancient black medical bag and gave her some drugs, but he warned her they would only ease the pain, not provide a cure. He asked a lot of questions in general and it was clear that he didn't buy her story that they had been back-packing through Europe when she had gotten ill. For one, they had no luggage, which looked suspicious from the outset. And secondly, when on earth did backpackers arrive back into the country on private jets? The doctor's eyes flicked towards him and his brother more than once, and it seemed his suspicions were growing.

"You know, I'd really lost touch with Alaric. I haven't spoken to him or his family in quite a few years." The doc said. "I suppose you must be a good friend of his for him to call me out of the blue like that."

"Uh-huh." He said, non-committaly.

"Lot of trouble down in Mystic, so I hear."

"We need gas." He interrupted, relieved that it was not a lie. "I'm gonna pull over."

The gas station had queues back to the freeway. He waited impatiently in line, constantly checking his mirror for Elena's progress (she had begun retching again) and when he got to the front, he tried to ignore the fights breaking out. As he filled his tank, he was breaking into a cold sweat. If the doctor happened to see the newspapers that he and Stefan were on the cover of every one of, then the doc could raise the alarm and they would all be dead. It was clear that the atmosphere was like a tinderbox.

He kept his hood up and his head down. When he walked in the gas station, he felt grateful that the attendant was feeling too harassed to pay him any attention. Customers were stripping the shelves as well as filling their gas tanks and the cash register was ringing heartily. He found a phone and made a quick call.

He tried to relax, blend and convince anyone who cared to notice him that he was just some ordinary Joe, and not enemy no.1. No eye-contact, no compelling. He also had to allay any suspicions the doctor may have that he and his brother were anything but human. That thought gave him an idea...

When he got to the car, his arms were laden with drinks and snacks. The smell of fake cheese from the nachos he had bought was completely nauseating, but he knew it had to be done. When he got back in the car, he handed the nachos to his brother, a bottle of water to Elena, and opened a bag of chips of his own. He greedily stuffed a fistful into his mouth.

"Hey, you should eat." He said to Stefan. "Bet you didn't get nachos when you were in Kabul, right?" Stefan looked at the food in his hand like it was alien to him. So he grabbed a nacho from the top of the pile and shoveled it in his own mouth. "Mmm, nachos, I've missed you." He said whilst giving Stefan his best pleading look until eventually his brother got the message and mimicked his movements, and raised a nacho to his mouth. His brother chewed the food slowly like the concept was alien to him.

He offered his own bag of chips to the doctor, but he shook his head, "I'm busy." he said somewhat huffily, but it seemed to work in that the old man relaxed and began concentrating on Elena again. In the driver's mirror, he caught Elena's eye. She managed a smile, before a cramp took hold of her again. He started the engine.

* * *

><p>At the top of the hill, he could see Atlanta in the distance. The airport was probably closed now. Fires were breaking out for miles around. Even as far up as this, he could hear the sounds of rioting. Military helicopters flew overhead. He sat down, or maybe his knees buckled beneath him. Either way, he found himself on the ground. Stefan remained in the car and in front of him Elena lay flat on the ground whilst the doctor listened to her heart through an ancient stethoscope.<p>

He knelt down, took her hand in his and squeezed it.

"I've made her as comfortable as I can," the old man said, standing stiffly, "I don't think there is much more I can do for her. She needs a hospital. Proper treatment. Monitoring. I can't do that here."

"Damon..." She said. He leaned down closer to her mouth.

"What is it, Lennie?" He used the name he had taken to calling her. It was the product of some little joke they had shared together and had stuck.

"Look after Jeremy when I'm gone." He winced and gave her an angry look.

"You can look after him yourself."

She gave him a wan smile. "I never said thank you, did I?" She said. "For bringing us home."

"Don't talk now. Save your energy." He moved her hair off her face where it was sticking. It felt like someone was pulling his heart out with their bare hands. No - he hadn't cried in fifty years, he wasn't about to start now.

She closed her eyes and he used the cuff of his hoodie to wipe the sweat from her brow. She moaned and he looked at the doctor.

"Can't you help her? Give her something for the pain?"

"I've given her more than she should have had already."

Suddenly anger overwhelmed him, perhaps he was tired, but he lost control.

"She's in pain, goddamn it! There must be something else you can do. Fix her!" His vampire eyes came without him meaning for them to. The doctor took a step back.

"Calm down, son. I may not see too well, but I'm no idiot. I know who you three are. I won't tell anyone, but I'm going to leave. You stay back now." He began to edge backwards towards the car, which Stefan was currently getting out of. The doctor moved to the driver's side, keeping a wary eye on them both. He was about to get in when he said, "Keep her hydrated." He got inside and pulled away.

Down at his side, Elena stirred. His features retracted and he moved to sit behind her, gently moving her so she that she could sit between his outstretched legs and lean against him, her head against his chest. He rocked her a little and kissed the top of her head. He offered her water, but she refused it, saying, "Never a dull moment around you, George." Which was her silly little name for him. He pulled her tight into his arms.

"Quiet now, Lennie. Nobody wants to hear you going on." She smiled. He kissed the top of her head.

"What are those lights out there?"

"Fires."

She watched them for a while, and he kissed the crown of her head again. "It's kinda pretty." She said.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Stefan - lurking nearby - stared at them both. "Stefan, come over here." He said eventually, for he believed now that his brother would do her no harm. His brother came towards them hesitantly and when he was beside them, he reached for his hand and tugged it gently, so Stefan had to come down to meet them both on the ground. He knelt awkwardly and Elena moved her head slightly to face him. She put her hand out to touch his brother's face, but at first Stefan flinched away. When she persisted, eventually he let her caress his face.

"I've missed you." She said simply. If Stefan understood, he didn't say so.

"I'm cold." She said suddenly; he peeled off his hoodie and put it around her. Underneath he wore a Grateful Dead t-shirt. It had seemed funny this morning when he had bought it straight off the back of a student in the hostel. She had laughed when she had seen it, "Very you." She had said.

It was beginning to get dark. The lights came on across the city and stars began to show themselves. Elena closed her eyes and he couldn't tell if she was sleeping or not. He kept very still and Stefan looked at him.

"You need blood don't you?" He said to his brother and Stefan nodded.

As he did so, he could hear a motorbike arriving in the near distance. He knew who it was before she walked over the crest of the hill. He felt a pang of anger run through him as Katherine strode towards them, the picture of beauty and health, her dark waves of silky hair bobbing on her shoulders as she walked. She was dressed in leathers, with a shiny black motorbike helmet under her arm. Her double in his arms sensed his anxiety and looked up at him.

"What is it?" She said. Then looked where his gaze was. "What's _she_ doing here?" She grew anxious and tried to wriggle out of his arms. He didn't answer her, just held her tight. "Damon, what's she doing here?" She asked again, more insistent this time. She made a Herculean effort to get up, but she was immensely weak and it barely took any pressure at all to keep her where she was. As he did so, he felt his heart pound. Stefan had not yet looked around, he was still looking intently at Elena.

Katherine had nearly reached them. She took a quick look at the three of them and raised an eyebrow.

"Fuck." She said simply.

"What is she doing here, Damon?" Elena was growing distressed in his arms. He held her tight as she moved against him.

"You haven't told her?" Katherine said, a wry smile on her face.

"Just do what you have to do and leave." He said.

"What's wrong with her?" She asked him.

"Nothing!" Elena spat back at her.

"Oh sure, I can see that." Katherine said, her voice thick with irony.

"Just go!" He pleaded.

Elena in his arms, cried out as another cramp took her. She began to cough, leaned over his leg and spat on the ground. There was blood. Her hand shook as she wiped the back of her mouth. Even Katherine looked concerned.

"Elena!" He said. He had never felt so bloody helpless. "Have some water." She shook her head. "I'm not asking you!" He said bossily, but she pushed the bottle he offered her away. It fell on the ground and spilled. Stefan fidgeted beside them. Her skin was almost glassy and her eyes didn't quite focus when she blinked. He stroked her hair almost obsessively. Christ, he was hurting. This helplessness, this feeling of not being able to help her was overwhelming.

"Damon," she said, her voice almost a whisper, "don't kill any of the cows. I like the cows. I like the smell of them."

"I won't." He said. He grabbed Stefan's hand and he gave it to her.

"Stefan, I don't think we should sit next to each other in chemistry any more, I'm finding it hard to concentrate." He watched as Stefan gripped Elena's hand, maybe he knew what was happening, maybe he didn't. He was quiet though and looking at them both intently.

"Jer, tell mom when she gets home, that I have put the wash on." Elena said.

"Good grief." Katherine said. He looked daggers at her and she grew quiet.

He kissed Elena again and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry so much. Its all taken care of." He said, feeling like his tongue was swelling inside his mouth. His eyes stung, his heart felt like it was trying to climb out his ribcage.

"Damon, I love you." She said. At that, he burst into tears, they streamed down his face and into her hair. "Stefan, I love you too." Another cramp took her, but this time, she didn't even have the strength to bend. Her body stiffened and then when it passed, she relaxed like a rag doll in his arms.

"Why don't you just turn her?" Katherine asked.

"Because its not what she wants." He said angrily, stroking Elena's head. Katherine shrugged. He brushed the tears angrily from his face with the palm of his hand.

"Jer?"

"He's not here, Lennie."

"I guess he's at practice. I think he likes Bonnie you know." She whispered conspiratorially, she gave a little giggle.

His tears refused to stop coming. Suddenly he wanted to hold Stefan, he reached an arm out for his brother and pulled him into his embrace. Elena lay quietly between them.

"Lennie," he whispered to her, "do you know how loved you are?"

She didn't answer. She was gone.

* * *

><p>His cry echoed through the valley. He pushed his face back into the neck of his brother and sobbed. Stefan brought his hand up and touched his shoulder. Elena lay dead between them. Katherine shifted uncomfortably, but she waited for a good five minutes before she eventually touched Stefan on his back and said, "Come with me, Stefan. We should go."<p>

He was reluctant to let Stefan go, physically or mentally. He gripped him tight wanting the familiar smell of him, the sense of his being. He had missed him, he realized now. Every minute they had been in Serbia he had worried about him - the footage, the photos, the trail of his brother's destruction had all bitten deep into his heart. He understood all of Stefan's actions, but it didn't stop his regret. Katherine leaned down and put her hands under Stefan's armpits and lifted him out of his own clinging arms. He was sobbing hard now, he returned his hug to Elena, rested his face on her own, burying his nose in her hair. That place in the crook of her neck that he loved so much. She barely smelled like herself any more. All he could smell was the sickness.

Katherine had the decency to say "I'm sorry for your loss, Damon." She must have taken Stefan's hand and tried to walk away, because suddenly Stefan ran back to them both. His brother knelt down beside him and kissed Elena's cheek, then got up and walked away. Katherine took a final look over at him and Elena, and then followed her new ward. He heard the roar of a motorbike engine and then he knew he was truly alone.

* * *

><p>He got to his feet stiffly and lifted Elena's body into his arms. He walked to the planetarium and kicked the door in. He entered the darkened auditorium with its doomed roof, walked down the stairs into the centre of the space and placed her body on the ground. That was when he noticed she had something in her hand; he opened her fingers and found a small white pebble. He closed her fingers around it again. He then looked up and found the projection room, and broke in. He found the machine which started the light show and started the program. The lights began to kick in with a mechanical whirring sound and on the ceiling a galaxy of stars revealed themselves in all their swirling beauty, their light reflecting on her face. A voiceover began to talk about 'a journey through time and space' in a deep and soothing monotone. He leaned under the control desk, pulled a handful of electrical cables from their housing and touched them together until they sparked. He did it again, until eventually a plug caught fire. He walked out of the room, leaving the door open so oxygen would feed the fire. It soon caught, and he sat down on a bench in the circular auditorium and looked at his beautiful Elena, with the stars above her. In the control room, the flames started to crackle and leap. Eventually, the fire broke the control room windows and flaming debris fell into the auditorium. A bench caught alight and then it spread to another. Soon the room around him began to fill with choking acrid smoke and bright orange flames. He waited until it was clear he could wait no more, stood up and moved towards the exit slowly, taking a final look back at Elena's body. He turned away and walked outside, just as series of electrical explosions rocked the planetarium behind him. As he walked away, he felt the heat behind him. He wondered if he should have stayed behind with her, but he didn't want to leave Stefan and he had made a promise to take care of Jeremy.<p>

When he was far enough away, he turned back and watched the fire as it consumed the building. He crumpled to the ground and rested his arms on his knees. He was numb; numb and alone. The world was burning all around him. All he had left was her blood moving inside him like a whisper. He lowered himself onto his side and pressed his face against the dirt. He let the tiredness take him and drifted into sleep. When he dreamed, he dreamed of her.

"Come on," she said, "don't give up."


	8. Epilogue

**Atlanta Burns**

**Epilogue**

"Damon, let's stop. Face it, we need a break. We're not going to catch up with them today and I for one, need something to eat." He put his hands on his hips and looked at the sun beginning to peep its way across the horizon. They had tracked Stefan through the night into this very rural part of Serbia, but found nothing but the carcasses of dead livestock. It was hard-going traveling at night. They usually rested in the day. He nodded in response to Elena's suggestion.

"Sure. There's a barn over there. Let's go check it out. Perhaps we can sleep there."

They walked in companionable silence through the long growing wheat crop that came up to their shins. The bright green shoots were still young and looked like grass. The morning dew soaked through his shoes and jeans. Wet feet was a feeling he was never going to get to like no matter how long he lived. As soon as he was indoors he was going to strip off his second-hand trainers and socks and dry off.

She was getting ahead of him, but she knew the drill and before she was too close, she ducked down, watched and waited. He joined her. His knees clicked as he crouched. "Shh!" She joked. He smiled.

"Anything?" He asked her, she shook her head.

"All quiet. I reckon we give it a couple of minutes, then check it out."

"Okay, boss." He said.

Eventually they moved towards the barn. It was sizable timber construction and the shape of it reminded him of the barns the Amish built back home. In the front there was a large, sliding, double door, which was closed, but they moved to the smaller side entrance. It was a habit that they had gotten into to walk all the way around the building once before entering, just to make sure nobody was coming at the building from behind. Once they had done a full circuit, he made sure he opened the door first and took a peak inside. All clear. He felt for her hand and lead her inside.

Inside the barn were a large number of square hay bales, neatly stacked against the back wall and upstairs on the mezzanine level, were even more. On the ground level, opposite to where they entered there was a section separated off by a wooden enclosure which had been built to keep animals in. And inside it, were a handful of brown Swiss cows. They nuzzled at a bale of hay which had been raked into a feeder in front of them. He looked at Elena and she smiled.

"Aw, they're lovely." She said and walked over to them. She reached out her hand and tried to pet one, but it tossed its head away from her. She grabbed a handful of hay from the feeder, flattened her hand and tried to feed it instead. The cow pushed its velvety nose into her hand and she grinned widely, using her other hand to surreptitiously give it a stroke between the ears. The hay was quickly gone and the cow backed off, kicking out and causing the three others to anxiously shift around.

"Come over here." She said turning to face him.

"Animals don't like me." He said.

"Don't be silly." She said. "Come on." She leaned on the three bar fence and watched the cattle settle again. One began to low - the sound echoed comfortingly around the barn. Fine, he would have to prove it to her. He took a deep breath and walked closer to the enclosure; as he anticipated the cows began to get immensely nervous, they banged against each other and scuffed at the ground. Elena put the palm of her hand flat out towards him and he halted.

"Whoa! Okay! Don't come any closer. I get it. Predator, right."

"I told you." He said with a shrug.

"Fine. Well, I'm going to stay down here with my new friends and you are going to go up to the mezzanine to make a nice bed."

"Am I now?"

"Yep." She turned her back on him and began to shush and calm the anxious creatures, who flicked their ears in protest at his presence.

He spotted the fixed ladder, but he felt like leaping up to the mezzanine. So he crouched and then leaped up the fifteen feet or so to the next level, landing lightly. He forgot too late that it would probably upset the cows again. Elena was cursing his name as they began to fidget and kick out.

"Sorry!" He called down to her.

"You will be." She said back to him. After a while she climbed up the split-log ladder to join him. He was in the process of making a space amongst the hay-bales and folding up his sweater to act as a pillow.

"You don't mind sleeping next to me tonight, do you?" He asked. "It's just I'll have to re-arrange all this if you do."

"Nope. That's fine. Whatever." She came and climbed up on one of his abandoned bail stacks and pulled her feet up. "You have bare feet." She said, noticing his socks and shoes were drying on a bail behind him.

"I can't stand them being damp. When we get home, I swear I will never ever own a pair of trainers. I hate them." She smiled.

"What else do you hate?"

He stopped what he was doing and sat down on a bail that was just below her level.

"Slow cars, bad manners, Florida, Vegemite and varicose veins." He shuddered. "Uch, especially varicose veins."

"What the hell is Vegemite?"

"If you ever go to Australia and someone offers it to you, just don't. That's my advice."

"Bad manners?" She teased. "You are so old fashioned."

"Well, I can't help it. I liked the days when men used to stand when a lady entered or left the room." She smiled.

"How would you have greeted me if I came to your house?"

"Well, you'd have to come in first." She jumped off the stack of bales and he also stood up. She faked knocking on his door.

"Oh no, you would have had your servant do that." He corrected her "And I would have mine answer the door." She gave him a look on annoyance and he grinned. "Okay, okay, I'll play along."

"Knock, knock." She said. He pretended to open the door and when he saw her, gave her a bow of the head from his shoulders, keeping his arms straight, he then took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. He raised his eyes to look into her own and a moment passed between them. He changed the vibe by continuing with their little role-play.

"Why, if it isn't the beautiful Miss Gilbert. What an honor, Miss Gilbert to have this opportunity to welcome you into my humble home." He gave a flourish with his free hand towards their hay-bale bed.

"Where's the party at?" She said giving him attitude and pretending to chew gum whilst swinging her fist onto one hip. He dropped her hand and she peeled into giggles.

"I suppose you think I'm hilarious."

"No, no. I think its nice. I really do." She said. "Oh, don't sulk. I was only teasing." She jumped back on her bale and let her feet dangle off the floor. She patted the space on the bale next to her and he made her wait for a few seconds before he leapt up beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm hungry."

"Go and milk your new friends." He suggested, she shoved an elbow into his side.

"You know as well as I do that they are bullocks."

"I don't think you are gonna find much food round here, unless you fancy finding the farmhouse and breaking into it. Could be dangerous."

"Yeah, I figured. I'll be fine I guess."

"Mind you, I'm hungry too; I could certainly eat a nice big cow right now. Now, where would I find one of those?"

"You leave them alone!" She slapped his arm.

"A vampire has to eat, Elena." He smirked.

"No! Find something else to menace. You stay away from them. They haven't done anything to you, poor things."

"You're too soft hearted."

"Probably." She nestled back into the crook of his neck and he smelled her.

"How are you feeling today."

"Okay, I guess. Not as nauseous as before."

"You're still too hot." He noted and she agreed.

"I know. I would give anything for a bath right now."

"Want me to see if I can find some water?"

"Sure, that would be awesome."

He moved away from her and took the ladder back down to the ground so as to avoid a row about upsetting her cows.

"I may try and find something to eat. Why don't you make yourself comfortable."

"Sure, take your time."

* * *

><p>Outside he was pleased to find that only a few minutes walk away from the barn, ran a slow moving river. It had good tree cover and smooth rocks from which it would be easy enough to bathe. He looked around for a bit to see if he could find any food for her, but there were no fruit trees, mushrooms or anything. She would have to wait until tomorrow when they would aim to move on. He couldn't see any signs of a farmhouse nearby, so it seemed safe enough for them to come down here even in daylight. He went back to fetch her.<p>

* * *

><p>"Do you want to go first?"<p>

"Nope, you can. I'll be your lookout."

"Yeah, well, you make sure you are looking out, and not looking at me." She said, mischief in her eyes. He feigned hurt.

"I'll spare m'ladies blushes. I'll go and sit over there." He said, pointing to a tree a little further up river, which had a low overhanging branch across the water.

"Okay. See you soon."

"Be careful."

"I'll let you know if there are any sharks." She said.

"Do you have to be sarcastic about everything?" He complained. She walked away from him.

"Only because you are such an old woman." She ran off.

* * *

><p>He wandered over to his tree and climbed onto the branch, letting his feet dangle over the water. He could hear her splashing about, but he didn't look in that direction. He watched the horizon and the sunrise which was in full glory. Suddenly he realized she was closer than she had been before, only a few meters away. He fixed his eyes on the horizon, but it was so damn hard. Eventually, his resolve slipped and he glanced in her direction. Through the blossoming branches of his tree he could see her swimming. She was nude and he immediately looked away, but he looked back again, to see her ducking under the water then resurfacing, pushing her hair out of her eyes. He saw the pale cream of her skin against the water, which was crystal clear... He looked away again, as she decided to float on her back. This was painful. He tried so hard not to look, but he was weak. Really, really weak.<p>

He flicked his eyes up to where she was and she was now back on her front, her long pale body moving through the water. He jumped down out of the tree and turned his back on her.

"Elena. Time you got out the water, you shouldn't stay in it too long."

"Sure, Dad!" She shouted back. He shook his head, he didn't need to see her to know the impish grin she would have on her face. She just loved to tease him whenever he tried to look out for her. Never stopped him though.

Eventually, she came walking over to him, squeezing out her hair as she walked.

"You want to go in?" She asked him.

"Sure."

"You sat up here, didn't you?" She asked. He tried to look innocent.

"Mm-hmm." She climbed up into his abandoned spot.

"Cool. I'll wait here then."

* * *

><p>As he took his clothes off and strode into the cool water, he felt an overwhelming urge to swim in her direction. He did so, stopping just where she had been. He dove down to the bottom and collected rocks from the river bed. He swam back to his clothes and got dressed.<p>

She called out. "Decent?"

"As I'll ever be."

She walked into his clearing.

"You, er, keep your eyes on the horizon?" He asked. She blushed.

"Yep. You?"

"Lovely sunrise." He said, his eyes twinkling.

"Sure it wasn't the moon?" She asked, swallowing a giggle and turning hurriedly away from him leading their way back to the barn.

* * *

><p>"Here, I found this." He said, pressing a small, perfectly white pebble into her hand. She smiled and put it into her pocket.<p>

"I don't have anything for you." She complained. He shrugged. No matter.

Her stomach rumbled. She gripped it and looked unhappy. He pulled a piece of hay from the hay bale he was sat on and offered it to her.

"Hey Lennie, you just gotta learn how to live off the fat of the land." He said, misquoting _Of Mice and Men_.

She took it from him and chewed on it, pulling her eyebrows up and making faces at him. He smiled.

"If I'm Lennie, I guess that makes ya George, don't it?" She said, adopting a Hicksville voice.

"Sure, he's the smart one, right?"

"Oh well, in that case..." She shrugged. He looked at her and she waggled her eyebrows at him, poking the piece of hay right up in the air. He shook his head like he was sorry for her.

"If you could eat anything right now," she said, "what would you eat?"

"Well, you are looking mighty tasty..." He replied.

"Come on, be serious."

"Nah, you tell me what you'd like to eat."

"Oh, I don't know, steak and chips I guess."

"Shh! Your new friends may hear you." He teased. She pushed him and he rolled off the hay bale stack and onto their makeshift bed. She jumped down and lay next to him, still chewing on the hay he had given her. "Come on, you can do better than steak. What would you really like to eat?"

"Oh, I don't know. Why don't you take me out to dinner? Where would you take me?"

"Hmm, RyuGin in Tokyo I guess, for the kobe beef, seeing as you like steak so much." He could tell she was disappointed that he wasn't giving her more. "No, not Tokyo, then. Italy. I would take you to the island of Capri just off the coast of Naples. The whole island smells of the lemon groves. To get there from the mainland you can hire a little boat and the sea is the most amazing turquoise color. There is a restaurant in the north of the island which only the locals know about. Its very hard to find because it looks like a shed from the outside. But when you get inside you see the little checkered tablecloths and candles on the tables and when you look up you realize there is an open roof, which is strung with lines of tomatoes that dry in the sun. To begin with I'd order you gnocchi, then risotto and we'd drink Verdicchio and Grappa and look up at the stars, and the family who run the restaurant would come out and sing for us." He turned his head towards at her, and realized she had grown quiet.

"That sounds lovely." She said, seriously. He smiled at her, but felt his smile fade. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but instead he looked away.

"So George, shall we sleep under the stars tonight?" She said, her playful mood returning.

"What, after I went to all the trouble of making us this fine bed?" She nudged him. "Okay. Okay. Look, up there - is that the Plough?" He said pointing to the barn roof.

"Mmm, probably. That one is Cassiopeia. Look how she sparkles."

"Yes, she's very beautiful." He grew quiet.

"I think I'm going to go to sleep now." She said.

"Sure."

"Watch over the stars for me."

"I will." She turned over and wriggled into the hay.

"George?"

"What is it, Lennie?"

"There better still be four cows there in the morning."

"Go to sleep."

"Goodnight, Damon."

"Sleep tight, Elena."


End file.
